Wing Commander: Behind Lines
by Chaser617
Summary: A story based on my own version of the WIng Commander universe, takes places roughly around the same time as the WC2 games, but fallows a different universe


Wing Commander: Behind Lines

Story by Shawn M.I. Tigges

Wing Commander and all associated materials are © Origin Systems Inc.  I am no way affiliated with Origin or any of its subsidiaries

All original characters are © Shawn M.I. Tigges, 2001

VFA-123 "Timber Wolves," VF-84 "Jolly Rogers," and _Enterprise, Midway, Kearsarge and __Ranger are names all taken from the United States Navy, their use is meant to honor the men and women who have served with these squadrons and aboard ships bearing those historic names._

CRUSDESGRU-16 FLAGSHIP _T.C.S. __CRUSADER (CGH-74)_

OUTSKIRTS OF THE LANDRIE SYSTEM

VEGA SECOTR FRONT LINES

1340 HOURS CST (CONFEDERATED STANDARD TIME)

AUGUST 15, 2564 A.D.

            Vice Admiral Hakati Yoromino smiled as he accepted a cup of tea from his yeoman and then looked at the Situation Display mounted on the bulkhead of the Crusader's Flag Bridge.  According to the display, the _Angicourt-class heavy cruiser was cruising at one hundred kilometers per second just over a million kilometers off the eighth planet of the Landrie system.  The __Crusader's escorts, the destroyers __Fairfax and __Coventry, were tucked in nicely against the big cruiser's sides._

            Today was to be an easy day for the _Crusader.  The rest of Cruiser Destroyer Group Sixteen, or CRUSDESGRU-16 as the formation was called in the Terran Confederate Navy, or ConFed, was in for refit at Landrie Fleet Shipyards in orbit around Landrie IV.  __Crusader, __Fairfax and __Coventry were to patrol the outer system till __Crusader's sister-ship, the __Kearsarge, and the rest of the formation was finished with refit and repairs.  Then the three ships would enter the shipyards themselves and the rest of the Group would take up patrol._

            "Admiral, Lieutenant Commander Hastings sends his respects, and wishes to conducted flight operations exercises," a you female Lieutenant with a heavy Russian accent called out from the communications station.

            Admiral Yoromino nodded faintly from behind his tea.  "_Hi Lieutenant Kreschev, tell him by all means, I want to make sure our two squadrons are in the best readiness shape possible," he responded in his light Japanese accent._

            Lieutenant Kreschev nodded and relayed the message back to Lieutenant Commander Hastings.  The _Crusader, while nowhere near the size of a fleet battle carrier, did have a modest flight deck mounted aft under the engines for the launch and recover of starfighters.  The __Crusader and her sister ships carried two squadrons of twelve fighters.  In __Crusader's case, one of ConFed's signature F-45B __Rapier space-superiority fighters, and one of the brand new F/A-47A __Saber strike fighter.  The __Rapiers had been the premier dogfighter deployed by either side of the Great War and was now approaching its fifth year of service.  The __Rapier showed no signs of being caught in performance by anything but the most advanced fighters on the drawing boards, and those were not to enter production for many, many years.  The __Saber was a new design concept for the ConFed Fighter Corps.  The Kilrathi, the felinoid race that the Terran Confederacy had been at war with for twenty years now had had heavy fighters since the beginning of the war, where ConFed preferred to group its fighters in light/recon, space-superiority and torpedo bomber classes.  The strike fighter concept had developed when it was shown that heavy cruisers and most escort carriers could not support the large and unwieldy A-40C __Broadsword heavy torpedo bombers.  __Rapiers could only carry one torpedo, but that was only if it was stripped of all weapons, including its energy guns.  That was not a viable fighting option._

            The answer had been a compromise design between space-superiority, and attack bomber, the strike fighter concept.  The strike fighter was not a heavy fighter per-say. Instead it was a space superiority-class starframe with larger shields and much larger stardrives to support the extra weight of the two torpedoes it would carry besides the normal warload of energy guns and missiles and keep the signature maneuverability of ConFed space-superiority fighters.  The _Saber came quite close to the ideal strike fighter.  It was actually fifty KPS faster than the __Rapier, but it was not quite as maneuverable, still it was a good weapon, and Admiral Yoromino was glad to have a squadron of the fighters aboard.  It gave him a highly mobile anti-capital ship strike capability._

***

KILRATHI DESTROYER CLAW THREE

PIRATE JUMP POINT, HIIGARA SYSTEM

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES  
1342 HOURS CST

AUGUST 15, 2564 A.D.

            Destroyer _J'gore Lord M'kall __narr His'll let a feral grin play across his features as he read the telemetry from his cloaked scout fighters in the system the Terran apes called Landrie.  The pathetic apes had yet to come up with a counter for stealth cloaks.  Now they would pay for it once again.  __narr His'll had six destroyers, his destroyer-leader the __V'Kraa and one fighter-destroyer that carried a squadron of __Krant medium fighters and __Grika torpedo fighters each.  While each ship alone was no mach for the Terran's cruiser-leader and two destroyers, together, working in an integrated claw, they could crush the three ships they were targeting._

            "Lord Commander," the lowborn officer who manned astro-navigation said in the proper, whimpering tone for a lowborn to use towards a person of royal blood.  "The Claw is prepared to jump."

            "Good, order the Claw to Jump into system, as soon as we emerge from Jump Space order the _Yvv'Hgr to launch its torpedo fighters, target the ape cruiser-leader only, leave the destroyers to the Claw."_

            "Yes My Lord."

***

TCS CRUSADER 

LANDRIE SYSTEM

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES

1344 HOURS, CST

            "Admiral!!!!" a Lieutenant at the sensor station called out. "Multiple capital ship Jump signatures!!!! Bearing three three zero mark twenty positive, three hundred thousand klicks distance!"

            "Identification?" Admiral Yoromino asked calmly, setting his coffee down.

            "Definitely hostile sir, now reading six destroyers, a light cruiser, and a super-light carrier."

            "BATTLE STATIONS!!! BATTLE STATIONS ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!!!" a call went out throughout the ship as the _Crusader's captain set his crew into motion._

            "The super-light is now launching fighters, looks like _Grika-class light torpedo bombers and some __Krants._

            "Order the _Fairfax close against our starboard side and activate her anti-starfighter batteries.  Have the __Coventry extend out and engage the light cruiser."_

            "Aye sir."

            "Our shields are raised, all anti-starfighter batteries are charged and manned.  Main gun batteries are coming on line and anti-capital ship torpedoes are loading," a crewman monitoring the _Crusader's weapons systems called out._

            "Lieutenant Commander Hastings," Yoromino called out as he depressed the com-stud to the fighter deck position.

            "Lieutenant Commander Hastings!" the fighter pilot called out over the roar of a starfighter's ion engines as it was flung into space by one of the _Crusader's two magnetic catapults._

            "Commander I want your fighters in space as quickly as possible."

            "Aye sir, the Top Hats are launching now, Bees will be up in two minutes!" Commander Hastings yelled out as two more fighters could be heard screaming off the deck.

            Yoromino nodded to himself.  Things would develop from here, but things did not look good.  If he could get the VFA-107 "Killer Bees" the _Crusader's squadron of __Sabers off the deck quickly, he might have a chance to kill both the super-light carrier and the light cruiser._

***

            Ensign John "Jumper" Kasseger gulped as he strapped himself into the back seat of Lieutenant Commander Hasting's F/A-47A _Saber.  The nineteen-year-old weapons system operator or "Wizzo" was on his first combat tour.  Jumper had just come aboard and had been assigned as Lieutenant Commander Hasting's Wizzo not more than two months ago.  He had yet to see any combat as the __Crusader had been patrolling the Landrie system since that time.  Landrie was suppose to be a secure system, apparently that thought was wrong.  _

            Jumper's hands shaked as he ran through the checklist, he could feel sweat beginning to build under his flight gloves.  The young man willed his hands to calm as he flipped the last switch on his checklist, running up the power to the capacitors that stored generated energy from the ion drives to be used with the _Saber's energy guns.  The blaster generators, as the capacitors were called, would drain with each shot, so the pilot only had a few moments of firepower before they had to let up on the trigger depending on weather the pilot was using full guns or one set or not.  The generators would flash charge in moments, but no pilot would let the blaster generators be fully drained.  So in effect, combat took on the appearance of ancient Earth's World War Two dog fights, pilots twisting and turning in space, lining up for the shot and firing in short bursts and torpedo bombers and strike fighters slowing down for attack runs to allow their torpedoes to lock on.  All and all, the whole thing was as deadly as could be, and Jumper was beginning to wonder why he had actually volunteered for it all._

            Because John, he told himself, you didn't want to get drafted into the Marines, that's why.

            With that, Lieutenant Commander Hastings, call sign "Slammer" clamored up into the front ejection seat and strapped in.  "Ready Jumper?"

            "Aye, sir," Jumper returned with a somewhat less than confident voice as the ion drive thrummed powerfully to life, the cockpit framing swinging down with a quietly.  With the sealing of the cockpit, the engine noise dulled, but was still there.  The commander rolled the fighter forward, taking directions from the deck hands.  Jumper felt a sharp thump through his flight boots as the fighter's nose landing gear connected to the magnetic catapult.  Jumper swallowed hard as he felt the ion engines behind his back spooling up.

            "Bee Lead, you are clear for launch," Jumper heard the flight deck coordinator call out through the COMNET transceiver.

            "Roger Deck One," Slammer returned and Jumper stiffened in his ejection seat.

Within moments, Jumper was shoved into the ejection seat as the _Saber was thrown out of the mag-con airlock and into space.  Slammer threw the big fighter into a hard banking turn to the right and joined the rest of the squadron._

            "All right people, our target is the light cruiser, form up on me," Slammer called out over the COMNET as the other _Saber's entered formation around the group leader.  Jumper gulped as he looked up and saw the __Saber of Lieutenant (j.g.) Kassandra Tikov and Ensign Timothy Harbow not more than ten meters over his head.  The formation was tight so they would have a better chance of concentrating their torpedoes on the Kilrathi ship, but that still did not make Jumper feel any better about it._

            "Fighters, incoming at 400 KPS, _Krant class, full squadrons worth," the Wizzo in Bee Two called out, and Jumper looked down and saw a swarm of red signals on his sensor board.  This is going to be real fun, he thought sarcastically as he felt acceleration pushing on him again as Slammer kicked in a boost from the afterburners and sent the Saber into a spiral role, cutting through the middle of the Kilrathi formation.  Jumper could see the flair of a ship exploding inspace around Slammer's seat, but also saw one above, signifying Tikov and Harbow's fighter had just exploded.  Jumper hoped for a brief moment that the two had been able to punch out but then his attention was riveted back as he saw a __Krant fight circle around on the sensor board, coming in behind and high to their _Saber_._

            "High Five o'clock!!" Jumper called out and was rewarded by being slammed into the side of his cockpit as the Lieutenant Commander snap rolled and then ruddered around coming up behind the offending fighter.  Another flash ahead signified the destruction of the _Krant._

            "All Bees! Check in!!"

            "Two"

            "Four"

            "Eight"

            "Ten"

            Jumper waited five more seconds for the twenty other pilots, but one look at the sensor board told the truth.  Two Kilrathi fighters remained, but only four ConFed blue blips showed as well.  It had not been a good day for the Killer Bees, they had been immolated in under a minute's time.  Jumper felt tears rolling down his face, under the visor and oxygen mask of his flight helmet.  He had known every single one of those who were now gone.  All were friends, and all had been good to the young recruit fresh out of the accelerated program.

            "Jumper!" Slammer's voice yelled out, bringing the young man out of his mourning.  "Get the torpedoes run up!  All remaining Bees! Focus on the light Cruiser!"

            All the remaining pilots replied and Jumper had the two Mk VI anti-mater torpedoes ready to launch in under the minute's time he had been trained to do it in.  "They're warmed Sir!!"

            "All right, slowing to attack run, it's all in your hands now Jumper," Slammer replied as he slowed to the almost crawling speed of 150 KPS required of a torpedo run.

            Jumper nodded and bent the control console.  He lined up the seeker heads of the torpedoes on the center of mass of the cruiser, then opened their sensor eyes, letting the computer brain of torpedoes get a look not only at the cruiser itself, but its shields.  A ping began issuing in Jumper's headset as the computer brain aboard the torpedoes locked on and began analyzing the harmonics of the cruiser's shields.

            "Come on… Come on…" Jumper muttered to himself as he began to feel the sharp rattling of the _Saber's space frame as it flew through the anti-starfighter batteries of the cruiser.  Finally one long tone issued in his ears and he stabbed the release trigger for the two torpedoes.  "Torps away!!!" he fairly well yelled out as he felt and heard the sharp 'clang' of the explosive bolts loosing the torpedoes from their mounts under the fighter.  On his sensor board, two small yellow dots appeared and accelerated, firs slowly, then more and more quickly towards the orange icon that represented the cruiser._

            Jumper felt himself pressed once again into the ejection seat as his pilot accelerated up again to fighting speed, pulling hard away from the cruiser.  There was a briliant flash as the torpedoes detonated.  When the clutter cleared from his sensors, Jumper could see that the cruiser was gone, but so too, were two more Bees, caught in the anti-mater explosion because they had been too close.

            Suddenly, the _Saber shaked violently and smoke filled the cockpit.  Several warning sirens went off and a __Grika streaked past.  The Kilrathi must have been able to sneak in while their sensors were blinded, ran through Jumper's head as more and more alarms went off.  Finally, the high pitched wail of the ejection siren began to scream in his ears, signifying he had only moments before the __Saber exploded._

            "Commander!! We gott'a punch out!!" Jumper yelled over the intercom.  There was no response.  "Commander!!!"

            It was no use Jumper realized a few moments later.  Floating in the zero-g of cockpit were large gobbles of red, blood.  Jumper was finally able to see through the mirrors mounted on the canopy frame that Slammer was slumped over in his ejection seat, his flightsuit red in places.  Jumper felt a sting in his eyes as he realized his pilot was dead.  He felt guilty as he reached between his legs for the two yellow and black striped handles, yanking hard up on them, knowing he had a small chance to survive, and Slammer hadn't been given that chance.

            Jumper saw the slight flash of the canopy blowing away and then was shoved roughly downward as the ejection seat fired, hurtling the young man out of the cockpit and clear of the fighter as it continued on its coarse unmanned.  Not more than a few seconds later, there was a flash as the _Saber exploded._

            Jumper immediately felt the cold of space eating into his flight suit, even though a small generator in the ejection seat constantly pumped a warm current through his flight suit.  Jumper felt sick as he continued to tumble, every rotation he could see the battle raging in front of him.  Although the light cruiser was gone, things did not look good for his companions still in the fight.  _Fairfax was burning, he could see through the vision enhances on his helmet's visor, and __Coventry was gone.  There were still three destroyers left for the Kilrathi, plus the super-light carrier, and even though __Crusader had them out gunned, she was still out-numbered._

            Things changed quickly, as there was a dull flash and three ships, two titanic vessels and a cruiser exited Jump Space not more than a few thousand kilometers above and behind _Crusader_.  Jumper recognized one of the two huge ships immediately, for anyone would recognize her.  It was the _Concordia_-class battle carrier _TCS Enterprise, the pride of the Confederate fleet.  Jumper could see tine specs of white light billowing from __Enterprise, signifying she was launching her fighters.  The young man gave a cry of joy when he realized that the Kilrathi would not get away so cleanly for the murder of his fellow squadron mates._

***

"WOLF LEAD"

LANDRIE SYSTEM

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES

1349 HOURS, CST

            Commander Jonathan "Knight" Moore flexed his fingers around the grip of the control stick of his _Saber_ strike/fighter.  This was only the second time he had flown this ship, in fact, this was only the second flight for the entire squadron, the VFA-123 "Timber Wolves."  The Wolves, as they had started to call themselves however, were made up of the best pilots pulled from each of the squadrons aboard the _Enterprise.  Each and every one was at least an ace, most double aces._

            "Wolf Lead to all Wolves, our target is the super-light.  She just recovered what is left of her fighters, and we are going to make sure she doesn't launch them again.  Break by flights and engaged to close within torpedo range."

            There was no reply from the rest of the squadron, there was no need for it.   Each pilot knew the drill, one they had practiced for weeks on end working up to becoming an active squadron.

            "One Flight, on me," Jonathan called out again as he dipped his _Saber's_ right wing and banked in towards the super-light, which his backseater had marked on his HUD as the primary target.

            "Two."

            "Three."

            "Four," his three wingman called out, signifying that each was complying with the order.

            "Knight, I got a _Krant angling in for what looks like a ejection couch," Lieutenant Commander Kevin "Mougle" Masson called out from the back seat. Kevin was not a wizzo, he was a pilot, unfortunately, the Wolves were short one fighter, and that meant he had to find some other job for a few weeks till the new fighter arrived, and Jonathan did not have a wizzo yet, so he had decided to fill in.  "It's got an active bio-beacon."_

            "Got it," Jonathan returned.  "Winter, you have the flight, I'm going after the _Krant."_

            "Two," Lieutenant Geoffrey "Winter" McEwin, Jonathan's wingman called out in an ice cold voice.

            Jonathan nodded to himself and snapped the _Saber hard onto its right wing and yanked the stick into his gut.  He felt himself being pressed into his ejection seat as the g-forces mounted.  Ahead on his HUD, a red target box appeared as the __Saber rolled into firing postion onto the __Krant.  Jonathan nodded grimly and gently tightened his finger around the trigger.  The __Saber spewed out a burst of fire from all its guns, two mass gattlings and two tachyon cannons.  The blasts stitched lines across the __Krant's shields, collapsing them just as the last few mass shards tore into the fighter, sheering off the right wing, causing the fighter to flip off uncontrollably into the void._

            "Desperado Strike, this is Wolf Lead, we have a live pilot here, I'm orbiting.  We need a CSAR team out here," Jonathan called out as he throttled back and brought his _Saber into line with the ejection couch, pacing its slow spin into space._

            "Roger that Wolf Lead," Commander Christof Roberts, lead controller aboard the Enterprise returned.  "Rover is inbound with One Flight of the Rogues."

            "Roger, how is the strike coming off?"

            "Wait One Wolf Lead…  Wolf Lead, Desperado, the super-light is burning uncontrollably, and is breaking up, two more destroyers have been destroyed and the third is moving to Jump Space.  _Fairfax is gone, but damage control crews aboard the __Coventry think they can save her, and __Crusader is still in a somewhat fighting condition, though she has severe damage, _Endeavor_ is pulling along side to offer assistance."  Jonathan nodded as he saw the heavy battlecruiser _TCS Endeavor_ (CGBH-14) that acted as _Enterprise's_ main escort pull alongside the heavily damaged _Crusader_._

            "Mougle? How'd we come off?"

            "Scott Free Boss," Mougle returned the smile obvious in his voice.  "Thirty-two out, thirty-two back."

            Jonathan nodded.  "Wolf Lead to all Wolves, you are cleared for Desperado, good work today people, I have a feeling there are some fleeters that'll be buying you drinks on Landrie in a few days."

            There were several chuckles, and a few out right laughs coming over the squadron COMNET frequency, and Jonathan smiled.  His people deserved it, they had done well

            "Wolf Lead, this is Rogue Lead," a soft soprano called out.  "We are inbound with Rover, two minutes out."

            "Roger that Love," Jonathan returned, knowing it was not exactly the best of COMNET discipline to call Commander Nikollette "Angel" Moore, commander of the VF-84 Jolly Rogers space superiority squadron 'Love', but Jonathan blew it to the wind.  After all, she was his wife.

            "Wolf Lead, this is Rover," the pilot of the Combat Search and Rescue, or CSAR shuttle called out.  "We're in approach for pick-up."

            Jonathan nodded as he looked off to the right, finally seeing the boxy ship, not much bigger than a _Broadsword attack bomber approaching with four F-45B __Rapiers escorting it.  Each had their twin vertical tails painted flat black with a white skull and cross bones centered on the tails.  That paint scheme made the Jolly Roger's fighters some of the most distinctive in the fleet, but also pointed to a proud heritage.  The VF-84th was the oldest and most decorated squadron in the Confederate Fleet, tracing its history back nearly six hundred and thirty years to ancient Earth's United States Navy.  Jonathan himself had up until recently flown as a member of the VF-84th, until he had been offered command of the newly formed Timber Wolves._

            "All right, Henery, you got 'em centered in the bay?" the pilot of the CSAR shuttle asked a he brought the shuttle to match the same slow speed as the tumbling ejection couch.

            "Got'em. Pop the bay Jack."

            "All right, opening bay, tractor him in."

            The bottom of the shuttle split open as the bay doors retracted.  Three delicate manipulator arms appeared and reached out for the ejection couch.  All three grabbed on and stopped the couches spin, then, pulled it into the bay of the shuttle, the doors closing behind it.

            "All right, we got'em Wolf Lead, we're heading back ta' base."

            "Roger that Rover, Rogue Lead, mind if I tag along?"

            "Not a problem Wolf Lead, go ahead and form up."

            "Roger that.  Desperado, this is Wolf Lead in formation with Rogue One Flight, we have the EV and are returning to the barn," Jonathan called out as he slid his _Saber up and tucked it in behind and to the left, a little below of Nikollette's __Rapier, directly below the CSAR shuttle._

            "Roger Wolf Lead, Captain Lewis sends his congratulations on an excellent first day's work for the Timber Wolves."

            "Thank you Desperado, I know a lot of fighter jocks that are going to love to hear that."

***

"PILOT'S COUNTRY"

_TCS ENTERPRISE (CVB-65B)_

LANDRIE FLEET BASE YARDS

LANDRIE SYSTEM  
VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES  
1449 HOURS, CST

AUGUST 15, 2564 A.D.

            Jonathan sighed as he stretched his neck a bit.  He was stiff after the last mission, barely having the time to grab a quick shower in the locker room used by the Wolves before being called in by the Star Wing commander.  Jonathan now felt clean, if not well rested.  He was of average height at 5'8", slim, but well built man with short brown hair, blue eyes and a thin goatee that encircled his mouth.  He wore the dark blue pilot's duty uniform that all flight crew in the Confederation wore.  Commander's strips adorned his shoulders and on his left shoulder the back circular patch bearing a howling gray wolf, the symbol of the Timber Wolves.  He also wore a sky blue beret with a tiny shield pin on the front that displayed two ancient revolvers crossed at the barrels, the symbol of the 1st Star Wing, the Desperados.

            Jonathan smiled as his wife stepped out of the VF-84th's ready room and fell into step beside him.  She was dressed similarly to her husband, save on her shoulder was a rectangular black field displaying a white skull and crossbones.  She also forewent the beret, favoring to let her shoulder length fiery red hair flow loose.  She was quite a bit shorter than Jonathan, only 4'11'' she barely passed the height regulations for flight crew.  Her small stature however did not make her any less the pilot, in fact, she was considered one of the beast pilots in the Star Wing, if not the best, she even had a higher kill record than Jonathan.

            "Any idea why the Captain called us in?" Nikollette asked with a slight hint of a Slavic accent, even though she had grown up in Connecticut on Earth with Jonathan.

            "No idea," Jonathan returned with a slight shrug as both reached the closed door that displayed an outstretched eagle and the symbol of the Desperados embossed on it.  Jonathan tapped the caller just to the side, and a muffled chime could be heard behind the door.

            The door slid open silently and the couple step through, taking four steps, and stopping at ridged attention as they stood in front of the desk of their commanding officer, Captain Matthew "Slim" Lewis.  The Captain fit his callsign quite well, being almost six five and rail thin, yet not unhealthy looking.  Their was gray just beginning to hint at his temples an crinkle lines at the corners of his eyes, but that didn't mean he was slowing down.  It was not too long ago that he had been commander of the VF-84th himself, and Jonathan could remember vividly the first day he reported to him.

            "At ease," Lewis said and the couple moved to spread their feet apart and their hands behind their backs.  "Good job today, both of you."

            The pair nodded and there was a heavy silence as Lewis picked up a piece of paper, even in the age of interstellar travel the human race preferred to hold a piece of paper in its hands.  The captain then looked up and frowned.  "I am really going to hate having to loose you and your squadrons, even if it is just a temporary assignment."

            That one caught Jonathan by surprise.  "Excuse me sir?"

            "Fifth Fleet Command has reassigned the VFA-123 and VF-84 temporarily.  As of twenty-two hundred hours today, you will form the backbone of the 23rd Escort Wing aboard the new heavy escort carrier _TCS Ranger, she's built off a cruiser hull.  The third squadron will be made up of the remaining pilots from the __Crusader flight group and some new recruits that have just come in from Fleet Command," Lewis said as he handed each a piece of paper.  "Johnny, you'll be Wing Commander for this tour, Nikollette will be your second in command."_

            Jonathan shuddered as he thought.  A jeep carrier? Good lord, those things were smaller than _Victory-class light carriers.  Of coarse, from what the Captain was saying, it didn't seem too bad.  While most escorts were built off merchantmen hulls, and were under-powered, under-shielded, and under-defended, __Ranger was built off a cruiser hull.  ConFed cruisers' hallmarks were their big, powerful engines.  Also, she most likely had a lot of the original defense grid still in place from the cruiser design.  They never changed those in the conversions, for good or ill.  Still, he did not like the idea of leaving the __Enterprise._

            "Why are we being transferred sir?" Nikollete asked.

            "Special Ops Command, that is all they would tell me," Lewis said as he returned to his desk, retrieved a plastic package, and then tossed it to Jonathan.  "Put these on Johnny, you'll most likely have to take them off when this is over, but for now, you can wear 'em rightfully."

            Jonathan caught the package, and looked at it.  Through the clear plastic bag, he saw two black shoulder boards, each with five thick gold stripes running across them, representing the rank of Fleet and Starfighter Command captain.  "Took some doing, but there was no way I was going to let them pass you off as a Wing Commander only at commander, especially considering you are suppose to be the equal of the ship's captain.

            Jonathan nodded, still a bit stunned at the sudden promotion.  Nikollette however did not miss a beat and took the package from her husband's hands, tore it open and replaced the commander's rank with the new captain's stripes.  She stepped back and nodded, with Lewis smiling.  "Though, I have to admit, they do look rather at home on your shoulders."

            Jonathan finally shook his head out and regained his composure.  "Sir, it is not as if I am not greatful for the chance at my own wing, even for a short time.  But why us, why not just pull together a brand new wing like they normally do?"

            "Because Spec. Ops wanted both the two of you, and your squadrons on this mission.  Enterprise will be getting two transfer squadrons to replace you while you are gone."

            "Any idea how long we will be on duty?"

            "Anywhere between six months to a year," Lewis replied with a frown, finally, he rounded his desk again and sat down.  "You better get your squadrons together and tell them the news, then, pack up and head out, I have a COD waiting on the flight deck for you two to transfer over to the _Ranger as soon as you are ready.  Your fighters and deck crews are already being moved as we speak."_

            "Aye aye Sir," both said as they snapped to attention and spun on there heals to leave the office, on the way to tell their squadrons the news.

***

ON APROACH

_TCS RANGER (CVEH-3)_

 LANDRIE FLEET BASE YARDS

LANDRIE SYSTEM  
VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES  
1600 HOURS, CST

AUGUST 15, 2564 A.D.

            Jonathan frowned as he flipped a switch on the control yoke of the Cargo on Deck shuttle, or COD and lowered its landing gear and arrester hook.  The approach to the aft landing bay of the _TCS Ranger was tight.  The ship itself, built on a fast cruiser hull, was quite slim compared to most battle carriers like __Enterprise.  She widened at the conversion area, but still, it was a tricky approach and Jonathan, not familiar with the approach lanes and had to make a quick last minute adjustment as the COD crossed the magnetic containment fields and slammed into the deck in classic carrier landing style.  The COD being yanked to a stop as her arrester hook grabbed hold of one of the thick durasteal cables stretched across the deck.  _

            Outside, a deck hand motioned with his hands to a parking space next to an E-23A _Skyhawk Spaceborne Waning and Command, or SWACs ship.  The triangular rotating section on the top of the large six person delta shaped ship was designed as an off-ship sensor system to increase response time of the wing.  Jonathan nodded with satisfaction, the __Skyhawks were just coming into Fleet service, in fact, __Enterprise had received her squadron of three only a month before._

            Jonathan took his time powering down the COD, taking a look around the flight deck.  All ready he saw changes he wanted to make.  In the flight line a few meters ahead, a flight of _Sabers from the Wolves were first up, followed by a flight of __Rapiers from the Rogues followed finally by a pair of RF-44C __Ferret scout fighters from the third squadron sitting far back in the ready alert order.  The __Ferrets needed to be first, followed by the __Rapiers, who should have been the Ready Five, not the __Sabers.  Although the __Saber was an excellent dogfighter, it still was not purposefully designed for that task, and the __Rapier was.  The __Ferrets, somewhat redundant since the introduction of the __Skyhawks, still served the purpose of scouts extremely well, and no wing commander worth his wings would have those last in the alert lineup._

            Other than that, however, things were running smoothly on deck and Jonathan was impressed by the professional and precise workmanship of the deck crews.  Then he realized why as he stepped off the ramp.  The majority of the men and women in deck crew fatigues still bore patches on their shoulder displaying a large 'E' with a four point, long tail star, the symbol of the Confederation, superimposed over the 'E'.  That was the patch that the deck crews assigned to the _Enterprise wore.  Most of the deck hands were from the __Enterprise, and knew their business._

            "Wing Commander on Deck!!" a familiar voice called out as Jonathan's booted foot touched the deck of the _Ranger.  All crew, including pilots inspecting their planes before they were taken below to the hanger deck all snapped to attention and saluted._

            Jonathan nodded and saluted back.  "Stand at ease, and continue on," he said with a smile as he turned towards the voice that had called out.  It belong to a elderly, powerful looking man, white fairly well dominating his hair, his face streaked with grease.  "How are you Chief?"

            "Aye Not bad Boss," Mitch Mclanahan said in his Irish drawl with a smile.  "They put me in charge o'r the entire deck crews, gave me ah leg up too.  Ain't no longer Chief Petty Officer, tis' Chief Warrant Officer Mclanahan.  "They made this ol' codger ah real officer, even got d'kids salutin' me an ev'thing."

            Jonathan smiled at his former crew chief.  "You deserve it Chief."  

            "Say's you, I donno wha' I'ma gonna do with all dis new respect."

            Jonathan chuckled for a bit, then turned as someone called out 'Captain on Deck'.  Nikollette now at his side, Jonathan nodded as he saw a man walk up to him, wearing the light gray blouse and trousers of Fleet Command.  His iron-gray hair cut close to his scalp in a flattop.  He saw the sword-through-star emblem of Special Operations Command over his right breast.  He also however wore the golden out-stretched eagle's wings of a flight officer.

            "Commander Moore?"

            "Yes?" Nikollette automatically.

            The captain raised his eyebrows at that, looking down at the slight woman, who looked up at him with cool indifference.  "I was told Commander Moore would be a male."

            "He is, but," Jonathan stepped up, extending his hand.  "It's Captain Moore now."

            The captain _hrrumphed as he looked at Jonathan with scrutiny, ignoring the offered hand.  "Somewhat scruffy aren't you?"_

            Jonathan reflexively ran his hand over his goatee.  He had not had it very long, but he liked it, and he didn't think it made him look scruffy or unkempt.  "Nothing in the regs about it."

            The captain looked at him for a moment then sighed shaking Jonathan's hand.  There was a smile on the elder man's face.  "No, not anymore I guess there isn't, Captain Alex Harrison.  Sorry for that Son, I was wanting to gauge what sort of man I was getting, I like what I see."

            Jonathan nodded. "Captain, do you know what the heck is going on?"

            "Not yet, only that we break dock tomorrow, then, jump to Gamma Centaurus System along with the _Kearsarge_ to meet up a heavy destroyer and a fast cruiser, then we will get our orders."

            Jonathan frowned at that, a three-day trip to Gamma Centaurus System.  A whole three days without knowledge of their orders.  He did not like that, especially considering he had nothing to tell any of his people.

            Next Jonathan looked back up at the ready alert set up.  "Captain, I don't know who set this up, but it is all wrong, I need it moved, and moved quickly."

            Harrison nodded.  "The acting wing commander set it up like that, some snot nosed kid, put him in the place, but he has basically been running rampet over the _Ferret squadron."_

            "Who is it?"

            "Lieutenant Franklin Trimaine."

            "Trimaine, as in Admiral Trimaine?"

            "Yes, it is his son."

            "I take it he doesn't take after his father then huh?"

            "No, he is a self centered, egotist."

            Jonathan sighed, then looked over to Mclanahan.  "Hey Chief, get on having the birds set up correctly, we don't have a whole lot of deck space in here, and we need to pack as many birds on the flight deck as possible to speed up our launch times."

            The elder man smiled and saluted.  "Aye sir, thanks sir, tried to tell the kid he had it all wrong but 'e wouldn' listen."

            "Just do it your way Chief, that's all I ask for."

            "Aye aye!" Mclanahan said with a big smile then turned to his deck crews.  "All right folks! We gonna do this deck up right!! Get two o' dose _Sabers move below, then, move up da __Ferrets to the cats!!"_

            "Now, Captain, if you do not mind, I am going to go have a talk with my wing."

            Harrison nodded and excused himself from the flight deck.  Jonathan simply sighed and looked at his wife.  "Looks like we have an ego to burst."

            "But you are so good at it," his wife replied in a sweet voice dripping with sarcasm.  

            Jonathan simply smiled and shook his head.  "Come on."

***

            Jonathan frowned as he stepped through the hatch and onto the hanger deck.  A space had been cleared just large enough for flight crews of the three squadrons to gather.  All ready, a polarization had formed, with the Rogues and Wolves stacked on one side, and the third squadron, the VFR-333.  The "Sky Foxes" as they were christened, were grumbling as they tried to distance themselves as much as they could from the Wolves and Rogues.  Jonathan saw where the strain was coming from, a young looking sandy blond haired, blue-eyed young man wearing the prancing fox patch of the VFR-333rd.  He was prancing back and forth in front of the gathered pilots as if he were the best of them all.  That was causing grumbles from the crews of the Rogues and Wolves, who had never seen this kid in combat before and did not like his attitude.

            "Will you sit down, the Skipper's going to be here any moment," Someone in the Rogues grumbled, though Jonathan couldn't recognize the voice.

            "Skipper? Hah, this Captain Moore's never commanded an entire wing in his life, and he has only had command of the Timber Wolves for less than two months," the young man shot back.  "And from what I have heard, he never even wanted to be in the military, he just decided to join up to impress people and convince them he wasn't a coward."

            "Shows what you know kid," Jonathan recognized Winter's voice, and saw the rather boyish looking young man with snow white hair step forward.  "Knight's got to be one of the best among us, He has more awards than I think you will ever see in your life.  He never hated the military like you said, he just didn't find it his calling."

            "Then what made him join up? The little red head that commands you Rogues?  She should be back on earth pregnant raising his babies, nto leading a squadron," Trimaine returned.

            That one sent several Rogues that were sitting towards the back rushing forward at the insult to their commander, but Lieutenant Commander Cassandra "Spirit" Dagwauti, Nikollette's wingman and second in command of the Rogues simply shook her head, halting the brawl before it had started.

            "Stow it up the pipes Trimaine," that was Mougle's voice now.  "If you would have read the Boss's file, you'd know that he joined up after his family was killed by the Cats onboard a starliner heading to visit him at college.  That pushed him to join up so other's wouldn't loose people like he did."

            "Still, he can't be all that good of a leader, he was never raised to be one like myself."

            That one garnered heavy sarcastic laughter from all the Wolves.  "Three time winner of the Silver Star, the recipient of a ConFed Medal of Honor? Boy are you ever far off pace Trimaine," Mougle returned trying to hold in his laughter.  

            "Only reason you are here is because you caught a lucky break, you were the last of the Top Hats off the deck.  That saved your rear end while the rest of the squadron got chewed up," a voice, surprisingly coming from the Foxes called out, receiving a grudging mumble of approval.  So, the Foxes were not all allied with the young officer, which was good to know.

            Trimaine was about to bite back a comment when a slim, earnest, and disheartened looking man at the back of the Wolves looked backwards and saw the couple and jumped to his feet.  "Wing Commander on Deck!" he called out and the entire wing snapped to attention.  The Rogues and Wolves sharp and crisply, the Foxes however, somewhat ambled up.

            Jonathan nodded and walked forward, letting his eyes gaze across the assembled flight crews.  The only people he hadn't heard anything one way or the other from were the crews of the two _Skyhawks and those of the single __Startanker refueling tanker assigned to __Ranger._

            Trimaine did not move from his spot at the head of the procession, even after Jonathan was standing next to him, feeling it was his rightful place.  Jonathan for his part, simply ignored the young man and looked at the assembled flight crews.  He noticed several, in fact a good majority of the Foxes were leaning forward, listening intently to what would be said.  Only a few actually had contemptuous looks on their faces.

            "Ladies and Gentlemen of the 23rd Escort Wing," Jonathan began, slowly, with his hands behind his back.  "And I do mean Wing.  We are not simply a ragtag group of squadrons thrown together just for the shear fun of it.  We are a Wing designed to work together playing each squadron's strengths and weaknesses of each other to work as one unit.  This is how I plan to command this Wing, and I will not tolerate any member, of any squadron, be it Rogues, Foxes or Wolves bad mouthing each other."

            Jonathan then finally turned and looked at Trimaine for the first time.  "Mr. Trimaine, are you the senior ranking officer in the VFR-333?"

            Trimaine smiled broadly and with such a sarcastic air that Nikollette thought she was going to have to walk out of the gathering to refrain from decking the kid.  "Yes, sir."

            "Then as my first act as Wing Commander, Lieutenant Commander Kevin Masson, step forward."

            "Aye sir," Mougle returned as he stood and walked forward, saluting Jonathan as he reached five steps in front of him.

            "As of seventeen hundred hours Confederate Standard Time, August 16th, 2564, you are now reasigned as commander of the VFR-333rd 'Sky Foxes'," Jonathan returned as he withdrew the red fox curled around the ConFed Star symbol of the VF-33rd's patch.  He had picked one up from the Quartermaster's office on his way to the deck, his decision already made before he had seen Trimaine in action.

            "What!" Trimaine fairly screamed out.  "You can't do that! The Foxes are my squadron!"

            "I can and I did Lieutenant," Jonathan said, his voice dropping low and becoming cold.  "Unless you have forgotten, that a squadron is not to be commanded by anyone of  a rank lower than that of lieutenant commander.  You by your own admission said you were the highest ranking officer at the moment in the Sky Foxes, which left me no choice but to bring Lieutenant Commander Masson in as the commanding officer."

            "You could have just promoted me to lieutenant commander."

            "I don't know how you got your two stripes Trimaine, but, just saying 'promote me' is not going to work with me, your going to have to prove it, like every single other person in this Wing.  Now go sit down with the squadron."

            Trimaine stood his ground for all of two seconds, then turned, taking a look at the huge, ebony skinned Mougle who simply flashed a smile displaying the most feral of intentions.  Trimaine took his seat, but still, he made no pretense to paying attention to his new commanding officer as Jonathan turned and continued on.

            "Tomorrow, we will jump out along with the _Angicourt_-class heavy cruiser _Kearsarge_ on a three day transit to join a small task group at Gamma Centaurus System, as soon as we clear the Jump Point, we will begin running full Wing drills.  I before then however, I will have a meeting with all flight crew I am not familiar with, in my office.  A schedule has already been posted at each ready-room's monitor, for now, everyone get settled in and try to get some rest, its going to be a long, tough day tomorrow.  Dismissed."

            With that, the wing broke up.  Mougle approached his new charges with all the warmth he could muster, acting fatherly and taking the entire squadron aside to introduce himself and make clear his expectations.  From Jonathan's vantage point, most of the Foxes were going to accept him, but he would not know until he interviewed them later on.  Right now, he simply just wanted to get his gear unpacked, grab some dinner, then relax with his wife.

***

WING COMMANDER'S OFFICE

_TCS RANGER_

LANDRIE SYSTEM

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINE

0645 HOURS CST

AUGUST 16, 2564

            John Kasseger sighed as he tapped the chime to the Wing Commander's office,  He heard the chime echo behind the door as it slid open and he stepped through, assuming a stiff position of attention.  "Ensign John Kasseger reporting as ordered Sir!"

            Jonathan, for his part, looked up from the file of his last interview in his hand, and recognized the young man as the one in the rear of the Wolves the day before.  He was not a fermilar person, so he must either have been a new recruit or survivor of the Killer Bees.  Jonathan smiled warmly and motioned for the young man to sit in the chair across from his desk. 

            John hesitated for a moment.  Lieutenant Commander Hastings had never been so informal with anyone, and now Captain Moore was welcoming him into his office as if he were another captain.  Finally, he decided it would have been best for him to accept the Wing Commander's hospitality.

            Jonathan took a few more moments reading over the file then placed it on his desk and looked up at the young man.  "You were a member of the Killer Bees I presume?"

            "Yes sire," John answered quickly.  "I was Lieutenant Commander Hasting's wizzo.  He… died in the cockpit of our _Saber."_

            Jonathan nodded, that was why this kid looked so somber, one, he was one of only five people to survive from the ill fated squadron, and two, he had lost his pilot.  "How did you make it back with a shot up _Saber?"_

            "I didn't sir," John replied truthfully.  "I had to eject right before the _Saber went up.  Almost got whacked by a Cat trying for some easy meat if it hadn't have been for a __Saber pilot from the __Enterprise."_

            Jonathan nodded, a smile slowly forming across his face.  This was the one he had saved from the _Krant, he thought, seems like a good kid…_

            "Ensign, I was that pilot."

            "Then I guess I owe you a drink Sir."

            "Not necessary, I only told you because you deserved to know, not to brag.  Have you been assigned a new pilot yet?"

            "No sir, I'm pretty much in limbo at the moment."

            "Good, then you have a pilot now."

            "Who sir?"

            "Myself."

            John almost gagged.  The Wing Commander wanted him as his wizzo?  "Are you sure Sir."

            Jonathan nodded, stood, and walked around front of the desk and leaned against its edge.  "Yes, I'm sure.  Listen, I know what it feels like to loose a lot of people you care for.  It hurts, but, it dose dull after a while, and I think getting back into space will help that out.

            "Aye sir, I have been feeling a little itchy since I first got aboard, I was afraid they'd assign me to deck crew."

            Jonathan smiled.  "No, they won't, we jump in fourty minutes, go down to the hanger deck and see Chief Warrant Officer Mclanahan, have him check you over my _Saber.  We're going to be running wing drills as soon as we clear the Jump Point, and I want you in the back seat when I get down there."_

            Aye, aye sir," John said, instinctively standing and saluting, almost making Jonathan loose his passive face.

            "Your dismissed," Jonathan returned, then turned towards his private locker.

            "Yes sir."

            John nodded and sighed, well, at least I got a decent enough seeming pilot, he thought as he made for the door.

            "Oh, one more thing Ensign," the Wing Commander called out without turning around.  "Have you been handled?"

            "Aye sir," John replide.  "They call me Jumper.  Got it at the Flight Program because I halfway jumped into the air first time I heard my name called on the roll," his face was red as he thought of that most embarrasing moment."

            "All right Jumper, get going, I'll be along in a few."

            "Aye sir," John returned and exited the door, smiling as he walked toward the lift.  Maybe the Wolves were not going to be such a scary assignment after all.

***

FLIGHT DECK

_TCS RANGER  
LANDRIE SYSTEM  
VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES_

0900 HOURS CST

AUGUST 16 2564

            "All Hands, All Hands, prepare for Jump!" the call went out across the ship, reaching Jonathan as he stood in Primary Flight Deck Control, otherwise known as "Vulture's Row" the plas-steal encased balcony situated over the center of the flight deck were flight operations were conducted.  Jonathan looked over at the "Air Boss" the person responsible for directing fighters around deck, a rather young and earnest looking blond with long hair tied back in a bun by the name of Kaytlin Tarns.  She stood, leaning over her console rather than sat as she looked over her deck.  She was anxious, this would be her first chance to prove herself to her new commanding officer and she wanted to look like a pro.

            Jonathan however, knew the folly of standing anywhere close to upright during a Jump, and gently took her shoulders and pushed her back down into her raised chair.  "Believe me Lieutenant Tarns, you're going to want to be sitting in the next few seconds."

            The Lieutenant (j.g.) looked at him for a brief second and was about ready to reply when a taught count-down from the bridge echoed from the ship-wide intercom.  "All Hands, Jump in Four… Three… Two… One… Jump!!"

            At first there was no internal sense that something all together unnatural for a human was happening.  However, if one looked out a view port at that moment, they would see stars shifting and rearranging themselves as the _Ranger shifted briefly between 'Normal Space' and 'Jump Space' in the process shooting itself several a hundred and twenty light-years away from Landrie to Rigalia System.  In the middle of the Jump, when __Ranger had transited completely into Jump Space for the briefest of seconds, the whole world seemingly tipped on its side for the crew.  The only known side effect of the Jump Drives, Jump sickness, set in, throwing inner ears and stomachs out of balance for everyone aboard out of sync as they occupied a dimension that was not their own.  For some, like Jonathan, it was simply a brief, mild discomfort, but for others, it was almost debilitating, stomach churning sickness.   It was however, over within moments._

            "We have Jumped… checking astro-alignment…" the Astronavigator on the bridge called out.  "Comfirmed we are in Rigalia!  _Kearsarge_ is in formation ahead of us."

            "All Fighters!!!" the lieutenant squeaked out, not completely over the Jump sickness.  "Magnum Launch!!!"

            Down below, on one of _Ranger's three catapults, Mougle's new mount, a __Ferret, screamed down the deck and was thrown by the catapult through the mag-con field that held the atmosphere in the flight deck.  Mougle was followed two seconds later by another __Ferret, then, two seconds after that the third __Ferret on the line shot down the catapults.  The deck crew was already in the process of moving the last of the scout flight onto the first catapult as the second __Ferret was screaming down the deck.  It was launched two seconds after the third fighter left the deck._

            Jonathan nodded in satisfaction as the fourth fighter in the launch line-up, one of Nikollette's _Rapiers was positioned and flung off deck.  The crew was keeping up an excellent pace, especially considering the tight confines of the flight deck.  Jonathan smiled at the Air Boss.  "Kaytlin, good work, I'm going to my fighter."_

            "Aye aye Sir," Kaytlin said with a large broad smile on her face.

            Jonathan returned the smile quickly then made for the door.  It took him less than half a minute to make it below to the flight deck just as his _Saber was being raised from the hanger deck, its large wings folded so it would fit below.  Jonathan quickly climbed up into the cockpit, his flight helmet waiting for him and Mclanahan on the opposite side. _

            "She's prepped for launch Boss, made sure she was in her best condition, as always," the elder man returned as he helped Jonathan plug the oxygen and communications leads into the fighter.

            "Chief, you got enough work without being my crew chief as well."

            "You think ah'm gonna let wanna the young'ens touch your fighter? Forget it," Mclanahan returned with a broad smile as the crews moved the _Saber_ into position behind the Number Two catapult as to his right, off the Number Three, the duty _Skyhawk was thrown off the deck and banked to the right as it cleared the mag-con field.  Two __Rapiers pulled up against it forming the un-armed sensor platform's escort._

            "All right Chief."

            "Show the newbie's how it is done sir," Mclanahan returned as he slid off the side of the fighter and the canopy enclosed, sealing in Jonathan and Jumper in.

            "Jumper? How are you doing kid?" Jonathan asked as he toggled the safety-covered switch to lower the _Saber's wings as he felt the shudder of the twin nose gear connecting with the catapult._

            "Okay sir," Jumper returned, his voice a little shaky, and Jonathan thought he heard a touch of doubt.  Well, the pilot thought, the last time he did this he lost just about all his friends, give him a bit of time.

            "Wolf Lead, this is Flight Deck Control," Jonathan heard Kaytlin's voice in his ears.  "You are next in line."

            "Roger that Deck Control," Jonathan said as he saw the yellow-shirted plane handler shoot him a thumbs up, signifying all was good for launch.  Jonathan snapped off a salute, then a thumbs up acknowledging and signaling he was ready to launch.  With that, the crewmember turned, knelt, pointed to the deck, then down towards the mag-con field.  Jonathan was pinned to his ejection seat as the _Saber was thrown into space by the catapult, clearing the launch deck.  "Wolf Lead, good shot!  Good shot!!" he called out as he snapped the __Saber on its port wing and pulled into a tight looping turn, clearing the launch lane and coming around into formation high and above a flight of four __Rapiers, followed shortly by Winter's __Saber._

            Jonathan took a quick moment to survey the two ships he was flying past, the heavy cruiser _Kearsarge, formerly of CRUSDESGRU-16 and sister ship to the __Crusader had pulled in close to __Ranger at the moment.  The big cruiser was actually a bit longer than __Ranger, but, unlike the converted fast cruiser, or the __Crusader, she carried no fighters, and had her flight bay converted into a marine assault craft launch bay.  Her main job was to protect the __Ranger if she ever encountered a ship-to-ship brawl, something that did still happen an age where most considered the battle-carrier and its embarked starfighters the kings of space._

_            "__Ranger Strike," Jonathan called out to the _Ranger's_ Strike Control Officer as he finished his inspection of the two-ship flotilla.  "This is Wolf Lead, on station and beginning combat exercises."_

            "Roger that Wolf Lead," the light and peppy voice of Ensign Kali Jacobs, the current Strike Control Officer _Ranger's Combat Information Center returned.  Ensign Jacobs was already well on her way to becoming the darling girl of the Wing and the ship.  There was no way you could not like the small blonde haired ensign, and she was also extremely good at her job, even for being just out of the Academy.  "Captain Harrison sends his regards and hopes you can teach a few things to the newbies."_

            Jonathan smiled.  He was beginning to like Alex Harrison, while at first seeming a little stiff, was because he was a carrier commander.  Jonathan found he was quite easy going in private, and well likable.  The two were developing quite a good friendship, and had developed a very effective command team along with the _Kearsarge's_ commander, a small, spirited man of Gurka-decent named Katar Omwatabie.   Captain Omwatabie may have looked slight, but according to his service file, he was every bit the tenacious and ferocious fighter that ha earned his ancestors the reputation of being the most feared warriors in not only old India, but the entire ancient Britannia Empire.  He was also extremely smart, and had an excellent head for maneuvering a ship like the _Kearsarge_ around to put it to best effect in a battle.  He and Captain Harrison were both just the sort of men you could, and wanted to trust in a fight.

            "Roger that _Ranger Strike," Jonathan returned, then flicked a switch on his throttle, switching over to the wing wide COMNET.  "All right boys and girls listen up, standard set up, The Foxes will take point, in standard defense sweep.  Wolves will perform a micro-jump deeper in system and then make a run in on the __Ranger.  Foxes, it will be your job to stop us, Rogues will be close in defense on this one, but if they have to engage to stop the Wolves, you loose the exercise Foxes, also, if the _Kearsarge_ takes a simulated hit, you loose, remember, you have to protect every ship in the group, got it?"_

            "Aye Sir," several voices rang out in his headset, though Jonathan took note that Trimane's was not one of them."

            "All right, from hear on, it is Mougle's show for you Foxes, Wolves, on my command, switch COMNET to pre-arrange beta."

            "Roger Lead," Winter responded.  The young man had settled nicely into his new role as second in command of the squadron with Mougles ascension to command of the Foxes.

            "Switch now," Jonathan called out and flicked a small dial on his twin throttles over two clicks to a specially loaded frequency for the COMNET receiver that was only accessible by the Rogues.  Now, no one, not even Ensign Jacobs in CIC could listen in to the Wolves' communications.  Jonathan however, would still remain in full contact with Ensign Jacobs, but would not hear her calls on intercept baring, it would make the exercise as fair as possible.

            Jonathan waited four seconds to make sure everyone had switched before speaking again.  "All right Wolves, lets head out, Jump coordinates locked into the navi-computer, jump in three… two… one… Jump!"

            With that the space outside Jonathan's cockpit was distorted as the _Saber entered Jump Space.  __Sabers were a rarity in the ConFed Navy, they were one of only a few small craft that had jump engines.  Also, their small size permitted them to make "micro-jumps."  A micro jump could be initiated anywhere in system, unlike interstellar jumps, which could only be preformed at specific points in space.  However, a micro-jumps would only traverse inter-system distances, not interstellar.  Also, they played merry havoc on the superstructure of larger ships, so jump capable fighters and shuttles only regularly used them._

            As soon as Jonathan felt his stomach stop twisting, he healed his _Saber about, making sure the jump had deposited him and the squadron correctly.  Jumps were never a one hundred percent thing, and one always checked.  Satisfied, he pulled back on his throttle, waiting for the Wolves to gather around him, it took less than thirty seconds._

            "All right Wolves, we play this one fancy, Mougle was one of us till recently, so he knows all our normal approach tactics.  Winter, you take Two and Four Flight and make another micro-jump to sector Beta three and run in.  As soon as you get within the _Ranger's screens, turn in and start mixing it up with the Foxes, then, the rest of the squadron will make a run in from this approach vector, keep them off us while we make our run."_

            "Roger Lead," Winter said, and the two flights flashed from view in an instant.

            "Lead, this is Two," Winter called out, his voice a bit distorted from the distance.  "We have successfully jumped."

            "All right Two, lets see if we can have some fun."

***

"FOX NINE"

RIGALIA SYSTEM

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES

0940 CST 

AUGUST 16 2564

            Lieutenant Franklin Tirmaine groaned as he heard the coarse change for his flight's spread patrol from the _Skyhawk SWACs bird.  He didn't know what was worst, running spread patrol, or the fact that Captain Moore had yet to show his face on this exercise.  He was not at all impressed by the rather non-discripted main who was playing at Wing Commander.  What made it even worse was that Captain Moore had taken away the Foxes from Trimaine and given them to one of his own people.  The Foxes, well, all accept for the few that were friends with Trimaine, had accepted the giant Kenyan almost immediately, and that made Trimaine even more upset._

            "Fox Nine, this is Winchester," the controller on the _Skyhawk called out.  "We have an intermittent contact and bearing three three three, mark nine positive, fourty-thousand kilometers distant."_

            "Fox Nine, Lead," Mougle called out.  " Pull in back close, looks like the Captain is making his run in, Two flight, extend and engage."

            "Roger," the commander of Two Flight called out, and Trimaine grumbled out a reply.

            Several minutes later, Two Flight was in contact with the Wolves.  Trimaine fumed as he listened to the radio chatter.  Lieutenant (j.g.) Mick "Bushman" Johnson, the wiry Aborigine reported in that a large force of strike/fighters were moving in and he was engaging.  Quickly however, all transmissions from Bushman or his flight ceased, signifying that they had been most likely wiped out by the veteran unit he was facing.  However, Bushman had done his job, he had told the Foxes where the Wolves were coming from, and now, it would be Trimaine's turn to show up the others with his skill.

            His chance came after several minutes, a group of red blips appeared on his screen, heading straight for the _Ranger and__ Kearsarge.  Smiling, Trimaine shoved his throttle full forward.  "Three Flight, on me, I have contacts and am engaging."_

            "Negative Trimaine, hold formation we wait for…" Mougle called out, but Trimaine flipped off of that channel and ordered his entire flight to do so as well, ordering them to go to afterburner, the four _Ferret_ scout fighters streaking out.  When he closed to a range that his sensor package would pick out individual fighters, brackets appeared over the speck far in the distance that was one of the _Sabers in his canopy.  Trimaine smiled and altered his coarse slightly, streaking past the __Saber, then the fight was on._

            The pilot of the _Saber healed his fighter hard over to the right, snapping the fighter under Trimaine as he came around and triggered off a hastily aimed burst from his __Ferret's mass gattling guns.  Trimaine cursed and rolled and yanked his control stick into his gut, pulling his nose around, lining up a shot quickly.  The __Saber however danced out of the way of the simulated fire and pulled in a loop away.  Again Trimaine pulled hard, this time standing his __Ferret on its port wings relative to his last direction and executed a turn that made the small ship's frame groan in protest.  This time, his shots connected, the combat computer signifying shield and maneuvering loss for the __Saber.  Trimaine gave a feral smile and tightened his finger over the trigger.  This had to be the Captain, and now, he would show the man that he was the better pilot…_

            "Fox Nine!! _Saber on your tail!!" Trimaine's wingman yelled out, but, before Trimaine could react, all lights went out in his cockpit and his formation lights began to blink, signifying that he was dead.  A __Saber streaked past him, pulling a snap roll on full afterburner to avoid another __Ferret, who's engines promptly shut down and its lights started blinking, signaling it too was dead, and another __Saber streaking past._

            Trimaine cursed as he watched an entire flight of _Sabers make a pass, then streak off to the left and high, towards where the __Ranger was.  Well, he thought, with a sigh, at least I disabled the Captain, that will be something to brag about when the exercise is over.  And with that, he flipped his radio back over to the combat channel, unable to transmit because he was "dead" he listened in on the developing situation, waiting for the call to return to the __Ranger._

***

FLIGHT DECK  
_TCS RANGER (CVEH-3)_

RIGALIA SYSTEM  
VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES  
1015 CST

AUGUST 16, 2564

            Franklin Trimaine stripped off his flight helmet and shook out the sweat from his blond hair.  He tossed the helmet to his crew chief and slid down the ladder placed against his Ferret's side.  It had been a bit of a stinging day, but at least he had a chance to show up the Wing Commander.  Who knows, he thought with a smile.  Maybe he was so impressed that he will give me my squadron back.

            As soon as Trimaine's boots touched the deck, he heard the _taptaptap of flight boots walking up to him ringing off the flight deck.  Trimaine turned to see Masson, muscles bulging under his flight suit, a frown on his face thinly disguising his disgust._

            "You disobeyed orders," the Kenyan said simply, and for the first time, Trimaine noticed that the Wing Commander was standing behind, along with his pretty red-head wife, still didn't remember her name, Trimaine thought.  Though she was quite beautiful, maybe he should try to lure her away from the Wing Commander.

            "Your orders were wrong," Trimaine returned.  "I engaged and killed the Wing Commander."

            Mougle shook his head and held up two gun-camera holo-disks.  "No, you didn't you _disabled Lieutenant Higamoura's fighter, you didn't even get a kill, and you wasted an entire flight of __Ferrets on a foolish glory quest," Mougle returned.  "Take a good look at this one Trimaine, it is Captain Moore's gun holo, his wizzo got an early lock and took a shot at the __Ranger.  Review it and learn you mistakes, I am taking you off the flight schedule and confining you to quarters for disobeying an order."_

            "What! You can't do that! I am the best pilot you have!"

            "You may well be Trimaine, but, I will not have a pilot on my rosters that disobeys orders, that gets people killed," Mougle said, and two marines walked up.  They did not retrain or cuff Trimaine, but still, their presence was well understood.

            "Escort him to his quarters," Mougle finally said again, and with that, Trimaine turned and walked out, fuming.

***

WING COMMANDER'S OFFICE

_TCS RANGER (CVEH-3)_

RIGALIA SYSTEM

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES

1230 HOURS CST

AUGUST 16, 2564

            Jonathan sighed as he picked up a printout of the exercise and the VFR-333rd's performance, then moved to his desk, collecting a cup of coffee from Mougle as he walked into the office.  Nikollette already sat on the small couch overlooking the large port that gave the office quite a view of space outside.  Mougle deposited himself into the chair opposite of the desk and made himself comfortable while Jonathan settled into his own rather well padded chair, frowning as he felt his body sink into the deep padding.

            Mougle took note of Jonathan's expression and laughed.  The shorter man looked up at his friend in a partially confused look asking for Mougle to explain wordlessly.  "The look on your face Boss, like you just sat in something totally revolting," Mougle returned, the smile still plastered on his face.

            Jonathan shook his head.  "The chair is too soft."

            That sent Mougle into a hysterical roar and caused Nikollette to clamp a hand over her mouth save she laugh at her husband.  "You're a wing commander now Boss, you do get some nice perks now, on of them is a nice soft chair in your office."

            "Going to take some time getting use to it," Jonathan replied somewhat half heatedly, and then looked up.  "So, now that we have started settling in, impressions?"

            Nikollette was the first to speak up.  "The Rogues are settling in fairly well.  There has only been a few people grumbling, and that has been more from having to give up their bunks on the _Enterprise."_

            Jonathan nodded, it was the same with the Wolves as well.  Most of it was good-natured, and he knew his pilots well enough to know it would die down in time.  Next Jonathan turned to the big Kenyan.

            "Still feeling them out Boss," Mougle returned with a shrug.  "Bushman and his flight have some real potential in them, I have them out on patrol right now.  Two Flight is looking fairly good as well, they were the ones who came fairly close to nailing Winter.  I liked the way they used team tactics, separating one fighter away from the pack and then quickly chewing it to bits.  That is the way you do things against heavier opponents."

            "Says here that two of them were former Marine landing ship pilots who were transferred over when their battalion got smeared on an assault drop," Jonathan commented as he looked at his files.  That sent a shiver up his back.  More people with scars, he though.  In this war however, everyone would come out with some.  "Any read on their stability?"

            "Their Jarheads John," Mougle returned with a shrug.  "The two of 'em stick together like plas-steal bonding paste.  They brought he other two kids in their flight together, about as close nit a bunch of guys as I can think of."

            Jonathan nodded, that could be vary good, or vary bad, time would tell.  Now he thought, for the major problem.  "All right, tell me about Three Flight and Trimaine."

            That got a reaction out of Mougle Jonathan noticed, and not a very pleasant one at that.  "Loose cannon.  He could be a good pilot, emphasis on the _could part.  He needs to learn that just because he is a hot hand and an admiral's son, he doesn't get to be the Boss."_

            Jonathan nodded his head.  "How long are you going to have him down for?"

            "Next exercise, maybe two, I donno, long enough for him to get it through his skull that he is not as important to this squadron as he thinks he is, and that we can survive without him."

            Jonathan agreed.  "All right, after the next exercise, put him back on the roster, and make it clear that if he boots an order again, he's in the brig."

            "Got it, when do we find out our orders anyway?"

            "Two more days, when we meet the _Excellencia_ and _Midway_," Jonathan returned with a sigh.  "Till then, I want to make sure this wing can fly like a wing, not a mish mash of squadrons, I'm counting on you my friend."

            "Done and done Boss."

            "I don't have any doubt."

            "This reminds me," Nikollette piped in again.  "The 23rd doesn't have a name yet, or a symbol.  I have an idea on the latter, but a name would go a long way to bring us together.  Numbers are not very inspiring."

            Jonathan nodded, his wife was right, as she usually was.  They needed a name, a few ideas were rolling around in his head, but he wasn't quite sure yet.  "I agree, I have a few ideas myself on the name, but not right now, I want to wait a day or so."  

            Nikollette nodded, agreeing.  "All right, I am taking Rogue One Flight up in an our along with one of Mougle's flights, we're going to do some lessons on dog fights and how to stay alive."

            "Try not to bury them Angel, I want some of them to be able to sit down after you take them over your knee," Mougle returned smiling.

            "I won't, after all, that is really your job Mougle," Nikollette replied sweetly as she picked up her spare flight helmet from Jonathan's private locker, her other still in their quarters, and then moved to kiss her husband, regulations about discreet conduct be damned.  "Have fun in filling out paper work."

            Jonathan groaned but let it pass as his wife walked out of the office and turned down the hall.  He looked at Mougle who had a big smile on his face and was on the verge of laughing.  "What's so funny?"

            "Nothing Boss, just thankful it isn't me having to fill all that stuff out."

            "It could be if you don't get out of here, remember, your up in rotation in an hour for SWACs escort."

            "Aye aye sir!" Mougle returned his huge smile making it quite evident that he knew Jonathan would never pull paper work duty on him, then stood and left, leaving Jonathan alone save for three piles of readiness reviews to sign.

            "Now who ever said Wing Commander was a fun position?"

***

BRIDGE

_TCS RANGER (CVEH-3)_

GAMMA CENTAURUS

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES

1340 HOURS CST

AUGUST 19, 2564

            Jonathan stretched his neck from one side to the other as he stood with Captain Harrison on the bridge of the _Ranger.  Unlike most battle carriers or other large vessels, it was a small affair here.  Barely enough room for the consoles and command chair.  With Jonathan present, it felt a bit cramped, but not so bad.  The design was yet another hold-over from the __Ranger's cruiser ancestry._

            "Any sign of the _Excellencia or __Midway?" the captain asked, his brow furrowed._

            "Nothing… wait, I am getting a faint signal from the fifth planet, it is the _Excellencia captain," communications called out from her position under the view port._

            "Helm bring us on coarse, Communications, asked them why the bloody hell they haven't acknowledged our past three attempts for contact," Harrison growled, then turned to Jonathan.

            "A flight of _Ferrets are already in space, plus a close in shield of __Rapiers," Jonathan replied, and Harrison nodded._

            "Take a wing man and check this out.  This may be simple Black Ops paranoia, but I don't want to chance it."

            Jonathan nodded and made for the exit hatch. Tapping his wrist com. And contacting Jumper and Winter.

***

_SABER WING PAIR_

GAMMA CENTAURUS

1410 HOURS CST

AUGUST 19, 2564

            "I have sensor profile on both ships," Jumper called out from the rear cockpit.  "One fast cruiser and one heavy destroyer."

            "Give me a vector plot around the third moon of this planet Jumper, keep us in the sensor shadow as long as possible," Jonathan called out.  "Winter, vector in for a plot five hundred kilometers starboard relative of my approach vector.  These guys may be ConFed but they are not being very showy.  Lets play this by the standard unknown intercept protocols."

            "Two," Winter replied simply and his fighter banked and extended out.

            "I have the vector plotted sir," Jumper called out and a gray vector nav. trace appeared in Jonathan's heads up display.

            "All right, lets play this cool," Jonathan muttered to himself in a soft enough voice for his mike to not pick up.  "Ensign Jacobs? Are we getting anything new from the _Excellencia?"_

            "Nagative sir," Ensign Jacobs' voice responded.  "Just signals telling us to vector in."

            "Thank you Strike," Jonathan returned, that did not make him happy in the least, and he was glad the Captain had wanted a fly-by.  Granted it put his, Jumper's Winter's and Winter's wizzo's collective arses on the line, but that was better than risking the entire _Ranger._

            Jonathan watched the small sensor dish.  While most of the sensor boards were in the back seat with Jumper in a _Saber, Jonathan still had duplicate of the basic information, nothing fancy, and in a combat situation, he would have never taken the time to look at it.  However, he was still in the habits of a single seat fighter, which meant he checked his sensors often._

            "All right sir," Jumper called out.  "Ten seconds till visual on the ships."

            "Roger that," Jonathan called out.  He flexed his grip on the controls.  He watched the moon spiral by as his Saber cleared the shadow and burst forward into full view of the ships in orbit.

            What Jonathan saw was a bit different from what he had expected.  The two ships were in close formation, the _Excellencia lagging a bit behind.  Both ships were painted not in the standard light gray with sky blue accents that the Fleet used, but a decidedly deep flat black.  There were no markings on either ship's hull to tell what they were.  Both ship's drives were powered down, putting out just enough energy to keep the ship in orbit._

            Jonathan looked down at his sensors for a second, then frowned.  "Jumper, I am not getting anything on my secondary.  What are you getting?"

            "That is the strange thing sir," Jumper responded.  "I am guiding in on their transmission beacon from _Excellencia.  I am getting absolutely nothing from the sensor boards."_

            "Wait, nothing? You mean your not getting anything on passives?"

            "No, I am not getting anything on anything sir.  Active scan isn't picking anything up either, it is like they are not even there."

            "That can't be right."

            "I agree…  Wait one, sir, I am getting fighter class drive flares coming from the _Excellencia's position, one wing pair, estimate….  Space superiority-class."_

            Jonathan frowned and focused on the _Excellencia.  Jumper was right, you could see the drive flares.  Someone was coming up to meet them.  "Winter, we have a wing pair."_

            "Two," Winter responded simply, then the COMNET opened again.  "Lead, Two.  Tracks are now inbound, estimated speed…" there was a pause most likely as Winter was getting an update from his wizzo.  "Now two-hundred KPS."

            "Confirmed, speed at two-hundred fifty," Jumper called out.  "Hold on… speed jump, now at three hundred, no, four-hundred KPS, angling in on attack pattern."

            "Winter, heat-em up! But keep them safe, come starboard fifteen degrees, lets try to keep whoever these guys are from angling in on our aft."

            "Two," Winter responded, and Jonathan hauled his _Saber around to keep the approaching fighters in front of him._

            "Jumper, got anything on them yet?"

            "Not sure sir, they're real fuzzy on sensors, almost as if they were jamming us but I am not getting all the excess noise."

            "Target the drive flares with passives and track them that way," Jonathan returned, thinking quickly of the newest theory on tracking the Kilrathi's clocked fighter technology.

            "Got it, target coming up, closure… seven hundred KPS.

            "All right, I am going to kick things up, Winter, tuck in."

            With that, Jonathan shoved his twin throttles forward to their stops, taking the _Saber up to its full speed of four hundred fifty KPS.  Jonathan snapped the fighter up onto it's port wing and the drive flares past over the cockpit.  Jonathan pulled the control stick into his gut and felt the fighter climbing.  As he did so he tapped his afterburner buttons, sending the __Saber into a tail skid, bringing the nose around faster.  As the targeting brackets around the drive flare of the lead fight centered in his HUD, Jonathan reversed his stick pull and jammed down the afterburner button.  He receiving a hard swift kick in the pants as the inertial compensators struggled to keep up with the violent movements, but the maneuver paid off.  The __Saber was already back up to it's non-afterburner maximum velocity and his targets were well within weapons range._

            "Missile Lock, we are ready to fire," Jumper called out as the locking brackets centered on the drive flares and began to blink signifying one of the missiles slung under the _Saber was ready to fire.  Jonathan however kept his thumb free of the missile-firing trigger._

            "Come on, come on, I know your Spec Ops," Jonathan muttered under his breath as he kept the drive flare he was chasing firmly planed in his forward view.  He could barely make out the shape of the fighter beyond, it to was painted a deep flat black.  It looked like it might have been a _Rapier, and that was a very distinctive shape, but, he could not be quite sure._

            "_Saber wing pair __Saber wing pair, this is Captain Gerome Kliener of the __Excellencia break off your pursuit of our fighters or you will be fired upon," a voice with a thick German accent crackled over the open net, adding even more confusion to the situation._

            "_Excellencia this is Captain Jonathan Moore, Wing Commander of the __TCS Ranger, your fighters made a hostile approach to us, just what is going on __Excellencia?"_

            "That is not your concern Captain, now break or the _Excellencia will open fire."_

            "With all do respect Captain, bull, we are here to rendezvous with you, I would appreciate some information before I get a warning that I am going to be blown out of the sky by a ConFed ship."

            "I repeat Captain, break off or you will be destroyed."

            "Captain Kliener this is Captain Harrison of the _Ranger, stand down, I repeat stand down or we will launch a strike package," Harrison's voice came over the open channel and Jonathan smiled under his flight helmet, glad he had piped this conversation through the open net back to the Ranger's bridge._

            "Harrison this is a closed…"

            "Damn it Gerome!" Harrison cut him off.  "Pull in your wing pair and I'll do the same, you have our bloody orders, it is going to do us no good to blow each other away just because of your damn paranoia."

            There was a quite next few moments and Jonathan actually thought might have to fire on the fighter in front of him.  Finally, the silence was broken.  "All right, Reaper Three and Four, return to base."

            "Roger that," a rather shaken voice called out as the drive flare split off and made back for the fast cruiser.

            "All right Jonathan," Harrison called out over a secure channel.  "Bring it back in, the _Ranger is moving towards your position now."_

            "Any idea just what that was about?"

            "No idea, but I know Kliener, he is paranoid in the extreme, one of the reasons he is in Spec Ops instead of the Blue Fleet.  What ever this assignment is, ConFed Fleet Command wanted someone who they knew would not blow a mission on talking or giving things away to the wrong person."

            "He was about ready to rain _Excellencia's guns on Winter and I, I don't know if I like the idea of a guy willing to fire on friendly craft just because he is afraid they might not be just the right people at my side."_

            "Understand, Kliener just transmitted a request for a meeting aboard the _Excellencia as soon as __Ranger is in formation, he asked that you be excluded Son," Harrison returned, a bit of humor in his voice, using the nickname that the elder-man had started to refer the younger Wing Commander by._

            "Tell him I am going to be there along with my Wing Staff."

            "He isn't going to like that," Harrison returned, but Jonathan could tell from the elder man's voice he liked the idea more than he was willing to let on over a open channel.

            "Good, my wing and I are probably going to be asked to put our collective arses on the line for this guy, I want him to know that we are equal in this mission, just like CONFLEETCOM wants."

            "All Right Jonathan, your clear."

            "Roger that," Jonathan said, then flipped back over to the private channel he and Winter had set up.  "All right Winter, lets head back to the carrier, and maybe get some answers."

OFFICER'S WARDROOM

_TCS EXCELLENCIA_ (CGF-84)

IN ORBIT OF GAMMA CENTAURUS V

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES

1630 HOURS CST

AUGUST 19, 2564

            Jonathan, Captain Harrison and Captain Omwatabie stood flanked buy Commander David Lessings, the _Ranger's_ executive officer, and Mougle, Nikollette and Ensign Jacobs as Strike Control Officer.  The two line officers were just removing their command caps, the broad white caps with black visors and gold trimmings.  An inheritance from the ancient United States, and Royal Britannia Navies, each cap held a gold representation of the Confederation Star.  The Captain's, as a badge of rank and to signal to all those not under his command that he was a ship's captain, held a gold reef around the star.  Jonathan, as a Captain in rank and commander of a Star Wing was also entitled to wear a command cap similar to Harrison's save instead of the ConFed Star, the reef would surround a smaller reproduction of flight wings.

            Jonathan however, with Ensign Jacobs and Mougle, chose to wear the sky-blue beret that had become an unofficial adornment for flight crews of the Confederation while Nikollete went bareheaded as her custom.  The 1st Star Wing's shield pin had been removed, and a new one replaced it however.  The shield itself was black and featured a silver colored star and circle, symbol of the ancient US Marshal Services.  Upon returning from his last sortie, Jonathan had announced to the Wing over ship's com that they were officially named the Star Marshals, taking a bit of heritage from the _Ranger's_ name itself.  Jonathan also found it a fitting name for an escort wing.  As soon as he had announced the name, he had had the quartermaster's department machine up the unit shields for all that wished them.  Within a half-hour, the entirety of the Jolly Rogers and Timber Wolves had traded their Desperado's shields for the new Star Marshals one.  Jonathan was happy to hear that the majority of the Sky Foxes had also eagerly taken to the name, only Trimane's flight had refused to adopt the symbol, keeping their berets unadorned.  Jonathan had a made a small modification to his shield, adding a gold reef around it, symbolizing he was Wing Commander.  It was a modification Captain Lewis and most other Wing Commanders had made to their unit shields.

            Captain Omwatabie wore an even more unusual form of headdress.  Instead of either the command cap, or a beret, the short man wore a pure white turban with red trim, the headdress of the old Gurka Regiments in the Royal Army.  Replacing the shield badge that would have traditionally resided on the front of the turban was the star and reef ship's captain badge from a command cap.  The headdress was clearly one not quite authorized by Confed Fleet Command; however, Omwatabie wore it nonetheless, showing a love of his heritage, and the strong defiant streak that had served him well in battle.

            Jonathan's thoughts stop short as he saw two more line officers, escorted by black uniformed special operations marines.  One was tall, broad shouldered and looked more like the stereotypical cigar chomping marine officer than the line commander that his shoulder boards said he was.  His command cap bore the reef and star of a ship's captain and he had bright, keen intelligent green eyes.  The other officer bore the shoulder boards of a full captain and also wore the ship commander's command cap.  This man however, was tiny and scrawny, a long face and rather pale eyes.

            "What are they doing here Harrison?" the Captain said with quite a bit of venom, and it was obvious that he was not referring to Commander Lessings or Captain Omwatabie.

            "This is Captain Jonathan Moore, Wing Commander of the 23rd Escort Wing, the Star Marshals, and his Wing Staff, Commander Nikollette Moore and Lieutenant Commander Kevin Masson, Squadron Commanders of the VF-84th and VFR-333rd respectively, and Ensign Kali Jacobs, the Star Marshal's Strike Control Officer," Harrison responded.

            "I know very well who these people are," the man returned angrily.  "I specifically ordered that they were not to be in attendance.

            "They have every right to be here Kliener."

            "This is a secure meeting Harrison, you know the rules, only those with a need to know are allowed to these."

            "And Captain Moore and his staff have a need to know," Harrison returned, showing the steel in his hair continued all the way through his spine.  "They will be a major component of any operation, and I will not put them, or their Wing in danger without having them in participation of the command meetings, we need their impute Kliener, more than you could probably know for a line officer like yourself."

            "They are not part of the chain of command Harrison and you know it," Kliener growled.  "They are Blue Fleet, this is a Special Operations Command operation."

            "For the duration of this mission we are part of SPECOPSCOM _captain_," Jonathan finally joined the fray.  Being a pilot for the past few years had given him a sense of exactly when to engage in a battle to put his guns to fullest effect.  He extracted a storage ship from the pocket of his uniform and handed it over to Kliener.  "These are the Star Marshals' orders, specifically say that we are to join under SPECOPSCOM."

            Kliener took the chip, and then simply pocketed it, ignoring it totally.  "These do not matter."

            "I don't think so Kliener," the big, burly commander returned, holding out his hands.  "I suspect you aren't even the senior member of this little battle group."

            "I am senior to you _Commander_ Freeman," Kliener returned.

            However, before a brawl began that Jonathan was sure Kliener would loose, Harrison extracted his own data chip and handed it over to Commander Freeman.  "These are orders I received to take command of the battle group, along with duplicates of the Star Marshals' orders."

            Commander Freeman took the chip, produced a computer slate from the wardroom's table, and inserted it.  There was silence as the burly man read, nodded in satisfaction, then stiffened to attention.  "Captain Harrison, as a representative of the battle group, I have read your orders and confirmed the verification, you are the acting Battle Group Commander, and the 23rd Escort Wing is to be included in all operations."  

            After he had dispensed with the formalities, the big man smiled wide as a Cheshire cat and took Harrison's hand.  "Good to see you again sir."

            "You to Mitch," Harrison returned.  "Jonathan, Katar, this is Mitch Freeman, late of the Confederation Marines, now commanding officer of the heavy destroyer _Midway_."

            "Commander," Jonathan said with a smile.

            "Mitch, good to see you again as well my friend," Omwatabie drawled out in his thick, but completely understandable Gurka accent.

            "You too Katar," Freeman returned.

            "All right then, Kliener, you have our orders, what we are bloody well suppose to be doing with a heavy escort carrier and its associated wing, a heavy cruiser, a fast cruiser and heavy destroyer out here in the middle of nowhere," Harrison ordered as the introductions were finished

            Kliener huffed for a few more moments, then motioned for everyone to be seated, though chairs for the Star Marshals were conspicuously absent and Kliener made no move to bring them in.  Jonathan and his staff refused however, to waste any effort on the games the scrawny German-descent man was trying to pull.

            "Ladies and gentlemen, this is our objective," Kliner began as a hologram appeared over the wardroom table, displaying system data and a computer generated graphic of a three planet system orbiting a orange star.  Of the three planets, only one, the closest to the star, was of rocky composition, the other two were gas giants.  "The Epsilon Entarus System."

            Omwatabie frowned as he looked at the data being displayed in mid-air.  "According to this data, this is a Kilrathi system five jumps into their territory."

            "Correct, it is what the Kilrathi consider a backwater, about as far away from the front lines as you can get in this portion of the war," Kliener continued on, bringing up more information, and the display shifted to a view of a small dockyard facility.  "In fact, it is so backwater, that it is the only place the Kilrathi trust to test there newest ship, the battle carrier _T'verra_," once again the display switched to that of a spinning ship diagram, the ship was typical of Kilrathi design, all right angles and unsymmetrical as the dickens, two ports opened on either side of the ship forward, and a single large opening above the main drive housing signaling the classic Kilrathi angled deck approach to carrier operations.  "She is the lead ship of their newest class of battle carriers, mind you they are not much a sight compared to our _Concordia_-class fleet carriers."

            "I wouldn't be so sure of that," Jonathan returned, leaning forward on the table between Harrison and Omwatabie's seats.  "This data, if it is at all correct…"

            "It is correct Captain," Kliener growled at the interruption.

            Jonathan however completely ignored the shot and continued with his examination, circling a bit of the data with his finger and calling it into more detail.  "According to these mass figures, she is slightly larger than a _Concordia_.  That is a bit of a departure for the Kilrathi, they like their carriers light and full of fighters, with little in the way of guns, only a few anti-starfighter batteries for token defense.  They relying almost completely on the ships around them for protection, especially those escort-class ships they seem so fond of, the ones they load down with nothing but anti-starfighter batteries and basically run them as close as they can to the carriers.  This ship looks like it has been designed more akin to our design philosophy, giving the carrier a little extra mass so she can be packed to the gills with anti-starfighter batteries and still carry a large compliment of fighters.  Look here," Jonathan said as he pointed to a specific spot on the carrier, and requested a zoom in.  The image was grainy, as if taken with a very low-resolution camera or at extreme distance; still, the object in question her was pointing out could defiantly be discerned.  "These are multi-barrel Vulcan-style laser mounts, like we use.  The Kilrathi have always preferred the dual barrel mounts over these, they really don't fit their ideas of defense, we use them because you can put a whole lot of energy into space without melting the barrels with the rate of fire they can sustain.  The Kilrathi have always liked the killing punch that the more powerful blasts that their normal mounts give them, even though it is infinitely slower than the Vulcan-style batteries."

            "Quality of shots versus quantity of shots," Harrison picked up.  "We like the Vulcans because they throw out so much energy so fast, it is like putting up a wall of fire around the carrier, we always considered the drop in power was a price to pay for the extra blasts being out there, and so far, we haven't been let down.  Though the Kilrathi have been just as successful with their twin mounts because they tend to pile them all onto escorts that do nothing that ride the side of their carriers."

            "Exactly," Jonathan returned.  "It is almost as if this ship is designed as an amalgamation of Kilrathi and Terran design ideals."

            "It would change the whole way we plan our strike packages," Kali said from where she stood with Nikollette and Mougle.  "For years we have known how they deploy their escort-class ships and have been able to rough out strategies that can get the strike craft close to the target, with this new system, we'd have to completely re-plan most of our tactical formations."

            "All well and good and fascinating I am sure _Ensign_ Jacobs," Kliener piqued up finally able to assert some control over the briefing again, shoving the young woman back into her place, in his mind, as an unspoken observer.  "However, our job is not to destroy this ship, but take her as our own."

            That one left everyone else in the wardroom silent for a few moments.  This was something no one had even tried yet in the War, to try to capture a battle carrier in tact, be it taking it from the Kilrathi, or the Confederation, had always been seen as just too wasteful in energy and personnel compared to simply blowing the thing out of space entirely with a strike force.

            "You have got to be kidding me," Freeman finally spoke up.

            "I assure you I am not _Commander_ Freeman," Kliner returned, and then called up a defense breakdown report.  "This, ladies and gentlemen, this system is guarded by only a heavy cruiser a super-light carrier, and three destroyers.  All of which are spread out across the system in no real tactical formation.  Also, we have been able to get positive identification on the majority of the ships, the cruiser herself is close to fifty standard years old and is about ready to come apart from lack of service, the other ships are in similar condition.  This is the idea time to strike and nab the Confederation its largest ever prize ship."

            "Why such a decrepit force to guard their newest carrier?" Jonathan asked allowed.  "If that was the newest design we had off the line, I would be putting a fully equipped cruiser-destroyer group up to defend her and for her battle group around."

            "The Cats don't think like us Captain," Kliener returned smugly.  "They figure a test facility in the backwater away from the lines by a few good hundred light-years is a assignment beneath their normal fleet units, and to the assigned task of disgraced, and ancient ships that can bearly stand to fight anymore.  The new Fast Battle Group formation that our force is structured into can blow anything the Cats have in system out of space easily."

            "It seems all to easy," Omwatabie returned.  "We cannot exactly sneak into Kilrathi territory unnoticed, they will detect us, and have a heavy battle group ready to defend that carry by the time we get there."

            "They will never see us coming," Kliener said confidently.

            "How? A heavy escort carrier and its accompanying cruisers and destroyers are not exactly the easiest of things to hide," Jonathan piped up.

            "We have discovered a jump point to this system that cuts travel by two systems, one we are sure the Cats are not aware of.  This point won't have any sensors surrounding it.  Also, Spec Ops has developed some sensor stealthing techniques for large capital ships based on our fighter cloaking technology research.  The results, as you have seen, are a nearly invisible ship on sensor screens.  Over the next week, the _Ranger_ and _Kearsarge_ will be equipped with identical systems to make it possible for us to slip in, even through Kilrathi occupied systems."

            Omwatabie and Jonathan both traded knowing looks, and Freeman joined in.  None of them exactly liked what Kliener had laid out, and even though Freeman's ship was already equipped with the stealthing systems, it was clear he wasn't as confident in them as Kliener.

            Nor was Harrison.  "Kliener, this has got to be the most foolish thing you have ever come up with."

            "I may have put together the idea Alex," the German said with a smile, "But SPECOPSCOM approved it unanimously, you can't back out of these orders."

            Harrison sighed heavily, then stood from his chair, burning a hole through Kliner's eyes with his glare.  "If I can't, then, as battle group commander, I am bloody well going to make sure this fool's operation at least has a chance of surviving."

            "We will more than survive Alex, we will bring home that carrier and be heroes."

            "Says you Kliener," Harrison growled.  "I want all your files on this, then, I want you, Commander Freeman, Captain Omwatabie, Wing Commander Moore, and my self to sit down, go over every single bit of information as the engineering crews are installing your stealth technology you seem so proud of.  You may have cooked this up Kliener, but I am going to run the battle group, and this operation, my way, and that means we plan it my way, and that means you do not question me, like you have in the past Kliener."

            Kliener obviously did not like Harrison's blatant accusations that his pet project was a fool's crusade, but he knew as the commander of the battle group's carrier, Harrison was running this show.  "Yes sir," the scrawny man replied with a growl.

            "All right then, this meeting is ended.  Kliener, have the crews begin their work, Jonathan, get your wings working up on boarding detail escorts, and heavy ship defense missions.  We will reconvene in the _Ranger's_ Operation's Planning Center tomorrow at this time, and I expect everything on my desk computer by the time I am back aboard Ranger Kliener."

            Everyone, save Kliener nodded affirmatives.  "All right, lets get the planning underway."

***

"FOX NINE"

GAMMA CENTAURUS SYSTEM

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES

1020 HOURS CST 

AUGUST 22, 2564

            Franklin Trimane grumbled as he banked his _Ferret_ fighter around.  The last three days had been tough, far tougher than they had to be, in Trimaine's mind.  The Wing Commander had ordered the squadrons into another round of exercise, each tougher than the last, each, in Trimaine's mind, completely unnecessary.  Didn't the man understand that people came from flight school as skilled as they could? That was what his instructors had always told him, that he was the most skilled aviator they had ever seen, and he would go on to a wonderful career.

            Trimaine shoved that out of his mind as his wingman, Kelly Johnson, a young, earnest boy from the southwestern provinces in North America, tightened up on him as the two reversed their vecto and came in with one of Gamma Centaurus V's mons overhead.  This mission profile was a repeat of the Wing Commander's first approach on the _Excellencia_ and _Midway_.  The goal was to make it as close to the task force before being detected.  To Trimaine, this was an all too easy excersise, and felt insulted by having to go through it.

            "Tighten it up Kelly, and lets bring it in closer to the moon."

            "We're already below the hard-deck the Wing Commander set Lieutenant," the other pilot called out.

            "How many times have I told you Johnson," Trimaine said, trying not to growl, "this flight is to ignore all safety and restrictive orders placed on us by either the squadron commander or wing commander."

            There was a bit of a pause before Johnson answered.  "Yes sir," and with that, the two fighters pressed closer to the passing craggy surface above them.  Trimaine smiled and easily maneuvered between canyons and short mountains at speed.  According to the electronic countermeasures suite mounted aboard the _Ferret_, the most sophisticated the Confederation employed on a fighter, told him his wing pair had yet to be detected by the sensor suits of the ships, and the _Skyhawk_ SWAC ship patrolling with two _Rapier_ fighters.  That made Trimaine smile, he had surpassed the Wing Commander's detection time, and that proved he was a better pilot.

            Trimane's smile disappeared quickly as he saw a huge mountain that had not been on the flight profile warnings thrust itself up in front of the two small fighters.  Trimane barely had time to avoid the spire of rock and minerals, and bark out a warning to Johnson, however, his wingman was not so lucky.

            "I'm Not going to clear it!!!" was the last thing Trimaine heard from Johnson as the younger pilot tried to go evasive.  He just did not have the room to put the _Ferret_ into a climb steep enough to avoid the mountain; the fighter was just traveling to fast.  The _Ferret_ skipped off the mountain traveling at over three hundred KPS, the shields shimmered and held for a moment, then collapsed just as the fighter skipped off the mountain.  The upper left wing of the _Ferret's_ unique x-patterned formation was sheered off and the entire upper rear half of the fighter was crumpled in.  For a moment, it looked as if Johnson would be able to keep the fighter under control and might have been able to make it to clear space to try to make it back to the _Ranger_.  Unfortunately, Trimaine's hopes were dashed as the damaged fighter rolled, and dived for the mountain, slamming into the rocky ground and kicking up debris and a dust cloud as the little fighter ground to a stop.

            Trimane reefed his fighter into a very tight banking turn as the dust settled, he pointed the _Ferret's_ sophisticated sensors towards the wreckage.  Trimane's heart turned cold.  He and Kelly had never really associated much out of being wingmen, but he had always been a good, honest, and friendly kid, and Trimaine had just caused his death.

            Waite, Trimaine thought as his sensors picked up the Confederation standard bio-beacon emitting from the wreckage of the fighter.  That only went off if the ship was wrecked, or a the pilot was ejected, and his flight suit's medical sensors pronounced him still alive.  There might still be a chance Trimaine thought with an urgency he had never felt before.  Trimaine quickly flipped an open net and in an almost panic, called out the words that no pilot ever wanted to.

            "Pilot Down!!! Pilot Down!!!"

***

WING COMMANDER'S OFFICE

_TCS RANGER_ (CVEH-3)

IN ORBIT OF GAMMA CENTARUS V

VEGA SECTOR FRONT LINES

1500 HOURS CST

AUGUST 22, 2564

            Jonathan sighed as he picked up the medical report from Doctor Langer.  Lieutenant (j.g.) Kelly Johnson was alive, thank goodness.  However, he would never fly a fighter again.  The crash had broken both his legs, and his right arm along with several other bones.  Doctor Langer had proclaimed that the Lieutenant's injuries, while they would heal, were so serious that even when they healed, he would have permanent stiffness and loss of fine control, something a fighter piloted needed just to operate off a carrier, let alone fight a starfighter.  Jonathan had stricken the you pilot from the Star Marshals' flight roster, and re-assigned him to the newly promoted Lieutenant (j.g.) Kali Jacobs in the CIC.

            The accident had caused a bit of windfall for him in the battle group.  Captain Kliener had singled out the accident, and the wing's heavy flight rotation and exercise schedule as proof that Jonathan was pushing his people far too hard, and really was not fit for command of a Star Wing.  Harrison had ignored Kliener's demands that Jonathan be removed from command.  However, things had come to a head when Kliener threatened to go over Harrison's head.  Then, at least in Jonathan's mind, the most unexpected of developments happened.

            Franklin Trimaine had written his own report, not only to Jonathan, and Harrison, but to be posted on the command net for the entire battle group.  In the report, he took full and complete responsibility for the accident.  He described his approach and how he had willfully disobeyed the hard-deck order set forth for operations around the moons by Jonathan.  He described that it was this violation of a rule set forth specifically by the Wing Commander, that had caused the accident, and was will to take any and all reparations that would come his way.

            With this admission of guilt, Mougle had taken the young Lieutenant completely off the flight roster for an indefinite period of time, but had not confined him to quarters or thrown him in the brig as most would have.  The confession, and the tone of any conversation with the young man since he had landed aboard _Ranger_ after his last mission had completely changed.  No longer was he the arrogant, cocky brat he had been.

            Just then, the chime on his door sounded, and Jonathan called for the person to enter.  The door slid open and Franklin Trimane walked across the threshold, and stopped in front of Jonathan's desk.  As he did so, Jonathan noticed that his duty uniform did not possess his flight wings.  Jonathan began to wonder what was going on, until the young man carefully placed his wings on Jonathan's desk, and then stepped back, and looked down at Jonathan, not with scorn, not with contempt, but the look of a man who had lost his self confidence.

            That was something Jonathan had never wanted for this young man.  His intent had never been to strip him of any of his confidence, only, to redirect it, and hone it to something more refined, and to just get rid of the arrogance he held toward everyone.

            "Sir, I, I am resigning my flight status."

            Jonathan looked at the wings for a moment, then back at Trimane.  "Franklin, sit down."

            The young man obeyed.  Jonathan simply looked at him for a moment.  "Tell me why."

            "You know why sir," Trimaine started, it wasn't an accusation though, like he had come to expect from the younger man.  "I nearly killed Kelly buy disobeying your orders, just because I wanted to prove that I was the better pilot.  You can't afford to have me flying for you, I am too dangerous."

            Jonathan stood and turned towards the view out his office.  "I don't think you are dangerous Trimaine, maybe to the Cats, but not to the Marshals.  "You made a mistake, a extreamly large one, but it was a mistake.  You learned from it didn't you?"

            The younger man nodded, but still refused to take up his wings again.  "You can't trust me."

            "You may think that, but, I have a feeling otherwise Franklin."

            "There is no way you can be sure of that sir."

            "I think there is one way."

***

FLIGHT DECK

TCS RANGER (CVEH-3)

IN ORBIT OF GAMMA CENTAURUS V

1520 HOURST CST

AUGUST 22, 2564

            Jonathan flexed his fingers through his flight gloves as he settled into the ejection seat of the RF-44C _Ferret_ he was 'borrowing' from Mougle.  As he looked over the controls, he was surprised by the fact that the _Ferret_ was a bit more cramped than he remembered.  He realized that he had become use to the _Saber's_ larger more open cockpit.  It had been almost three months since he had passed his check ride to re-qualify for the _Ferret_, and longer than that since he had actually flown one regularly.  However Jonathan quickly ran his fingers over all the controls and was pleased to find that everything came back him.

            "You sure you want to do this Boss?" Mougle asked.

            "Honestly, do you think Trimaine has potential?"

            "Yeah, but it looks like his confidence is shot, that is just as bad as that superiority air he put on before."

            "Exactly," Jonathan returned.  "Remember what Captain Lewis did for Hunter?"

            "Yeah, but you think it will work with the kid?"

            "Only one way to find out," Jonathan returned and settled his flight helmet over his head, then gave Mougle a thumbs up as the bigger man climbed off the side of the fighter and the canopy closed down around him.

            It was strange not hearing Jumper's voice reciting the checklist as he powered up the fighter.  He had become use to the young man and the fact that he was not alone in the fighter.  Jonathan pushed that thought out of his mind however as her stabbed the start-up button for the engine and received  a steady thrum behind him.

            "Wolf Lead," Kaytlin's voice called out in his ears.  Even though he was flying a Sky Fox fighter, he still kept his callsign as the Timber Wolves' CO.  "You are next up for launch."

            "Roger that," Jonathan retuned as the plane handler motioned the _Ferret_ into position to lock onto the catapult.  Jonathan braced and was flung out the magnetic containment fields and into space.  "Wolf Lead, good shot!  Good shot!!" he called out as he put the Ferret into a hard left-hand bank to clear the launch line for the next fighter.

            "Fox Nine, good shot!  Good shot!!" Trimaine's voice came over the COMNET as Jonathan looked behind him to see another _Ferret_ being flung out the flight deck.  "Joining on your wing Wolf Lead," the younger man called out, a little hesitancy in his voice.

            Jonathan frowned, he needed to cure the kid of that, and he knew one way to do that.  "Marshal Strike this is Wolf Lead."

            "Marshal Strike," Kali's voice came over the COMNET.

            "Marshal, I am proceeding outbound for a combat exercise."

            "Affirmative Wolf Lead, picture from Winchester is clear," Kali returned, stating that the SWACs platform, callsign Winchester, had nothing but the battle group on its scopes.

            "Roger that.  Fox Nine, bring it close, we are going to extend out a bit, give us a little room to play."

            There was no reply from Trimaine, but his fighter did close up to the Ferret Jonathan was flying.  The elder man nodded and angled the two-ship flight out toward open space.  When Jonathan was certain that the two fighters were in an area they could safely mix it up and not worry about running into any of the patrol flights, he set his fighter into a tight, circling orbit.  Then he brought the flight into a long looping curve outward of the planet, finally satisfied, he kicked the _Ferret_ up to its maximum non-afterburning speed of five hundred KPS.  Jonathan smiled as he saw Trimaine was keeping tight formation with him.

            "All right Fox Nine, break right… Now!"

            With that order, Trimaine pulled hard away from Jonathan's own fighter and extended away.  "Switch to combat simulation control on your computer, on my count, turn back in and we begin a little dog-fhigt practice.

            "Roger."

            "Engage," Jonathan said plainly and hauled his fighter around, the spaceframe groaning slightly in protest.  Targetting brackets appeared over Trimaine's fighter as the sensor package picked up the shift in the fighter's IFF code to a combat exercise opponent.  Jonathan flicked a control on the throttle, locking Trimaine's fighter into the combat computer's memory as the primary target.  A solid box appeared around the fighter in response.

            In the seconds it had taken Jonathan to do that simple act, Trimaine's fighter was past him. Jonathan yanked the fighter into a tight climb, and a half snap roll, guessing right that Trimaine would take a tight banking turn to gain position on Jonathan.  He took a quick shot at Trimaine with the mass gattlings mounted in the fighter's the shots were hastily aimed and did not do much simulated damage, but the got the kid's attention.  He kicked in the Ferret's afterburners for a moment and rolled under Jonathan's fighter.  Jonathan smiled, the kid was running on instict at the moment.  That was exactly what Jonathan wanted.

            Jonathan watched as Trimaine's fighter pulled in past his rear quarter.  Jonathan threw his fighter into a hard right-hand turn, but he positioned his maneuver so Trimaine would wind up on his six-o'clock.  Jonathan felt his fighter shudder as Trimaine took shots at Jonathan.  Jonathan juked left and right keeping up the appearances of trying to dodge Trimaine.  He quickly switched to play acting, to really dodging as Trimaine began to press a little harder.  Good Jonathan thought with a smile under his flight helmet, he is getting his confidence back, wait a few more moments for the real trial…

            Jonathan nodded to himself.  It was time for the real point of this flight.  He tapped the afterburner button and sent the ship hurtling forward.  Trimaine kept right with him.  Now! Jonathan thought as he slammed his throttle all the way to zero.  The fighter decelerated quickly, throwing Jonathan forward against his restraints.  Proximity warnings howled in his headset as Trimaine jumped his fighter up and over Jonathan's trying to take a last shot in the process, but instead caring more not to kill both himself and Jonathan.  His fighter flew past Jonathan's and he smiled as Trimaine's voice came over the COMNET.  "Sir! Are you all right!"

            "More than all right Trimaine," Jonathan said smiling, bringing his fighter back to a semblance of forward motion.  "You just proved to me that I could trust you."

***

FLIGHT DECK

_TCS RANGER_ (CVEH-3)

IN ORBIT OF GAMMA CENTAURUS V

1530 HOURS CST

AUGUST 22, 2564

            Jonathan smiled as he slipped down the ladder the Chief had positioned against his borrowed fighter.  Just as he slipped his flight helmet from his head, Trimaine walked up to him, his own flight helmet under his arm.  Jonathan nodded to the younger man.

            "Good job out their Franklin."

            "I have a question sir?"

            "What is it?"

            "Sir, we have never been allowed to do what you just did.  From the very first day of flight school, we have been told reverse throttle maneuvers like that were the surest way to get yourself killed.  Why did you risk it?  I could have flown straight up your drive ports and killed the both of us."

            "It was because I trust you Franklin, I knew you had the abilities to handle that situation, that.  You may not have believed that when we first set out today, but, I knew you had changed, I just had to prove it to you."

            Trimaine nodded soberly and Jonathan fished from one of his flight suit's many pockets and produced a pair of flight wings.  "Put these back on Trimaine, you've proven yourself, and I don't think the spoiled brat you once were, is around anymore."

            "No sir."

            Jonathan smiled.  It might have come at a high price, but Trimaine had learned a lesson he would never forget, and had grown up in the process.  Time would tell if he could put those lessons to use, but Jonathan thought with a large bit of confidence that he would.

***

OPERATIONS PLANNING CENTER

_TCS RANGER_ (CVEH-3)

IN ORBIT OF GAMMA CENTAURUS V

0900 HOURS CST

AUGUST 23, 2564

            Jonathan saluted the marine standing guard outside of the Operations Planning Center.  That had been the single concession Harrison had made to Kliener for security sake, a marine from the _Ranger's_ contingent guarded every operational meeting.  The marine saluted and the door slid open.

            Next to the CIC, the Operations Planning Center was the largest compartment aboard dedicated to actually fighting Ranger.  While the flight and hanger decks, and the recreation center were all larger, they were either the bailiwick of the Star Wing, or as the case with the recreation center not even combat oriented, the OPC was the personal domain of Captain Harrison.  While Jonathan was still his equal in rank, here, especially because he was now battle group commander, Harrison was in control.

            "Your late Captain," Kliener growled as soon as Jonathan had stepped over the threshold of the hatch.

            Jonathan did not dignify the shorter man with an answer as he extracted a data chip from his flight suit's pocket and handed it over to Harrison.  "That new technology and sensor absorbent paint the techs installed doesn't hamper flight operations," Jonathan said.  "The Wing is also at full combat readiness, I think they are ready to take on the mission.

            "You have been pushing them hard enough Captain Moore," Kliener growled.  "You are short one pilot thanks to your incompetence."

            "Kliener, we have gone over this before, the fact that Wing Commander Moore's orders were disobeyed lead directly to the accident should prove that he was not at fault," Harrison shot back."

            "No matter, the wing won't play a major role in this effort," Kliener finally said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

            "Haven't you been paying attention to these meetings Kliner?" Freeman shot back.  "The Star Marshals are going to be an integral part of this mission, why the world do you think Ranger and her wing were even assigned to this mission?"

            "The wing's fighters do not have the specific technology to enter combat in this operation."

            "Because they don't have the stealth hardware that is installed on your scout squadron's ships?" Omwatabie asked.  "That is one squadron, and they are experimental scout fighters that don't have enough punch to cover my marine's boarding operations.  I do not care what you say Captain Kliener, but the _Kearsarge_ and her marines are going to be a central swing for this operation.  Without them, we can't take the Cat carrier, and I am not sending people under my command out without either the Timber Wolves or the Jolly Rogers as cover."

            Before Kliener could react, Harrison held up his hand.  "We all understand Katar, and I am sure Jonathan and his people are going to give you all the proper cover you could need.  That has been the planning ever since we started.  The stealth technology is just too new to be trusted fully.  I will use it as an advantage, but that does not mean I am throwing away the Star Marshals as an effective fighting force because they show up as normal fighters.  Now, we have one more item to discuss."

            "That would be?" Kliener ask.

            "The mater of _T'verra's_ prize crew, if this operation is not pulled by the time we make it to her.

            "The crew is to be made up of the personnel the _Kearsarge_ has been transporting along with the reinforced marine brigade," Kliner returned.  "They are all trained in captured Kilrathi systems, they will be able to fly her perfectly."

            "Yes, but can they fight her, and do any of them have capital ship command experience," Harrison returned.  "I didn't see a single command rank in the roster."

            "Simple, I was going to take command of her," Kliener returned.

            Harrison barked out a laugh.  "Kliener, do you have any idea how to maneuver a carrier?"

            "The _T'verra_ will not have an embarked wing, and besides, if she did, we would not have the pilots to do so."

            "That isn't the point," Jonathan said.  "Weather a carrier is operating with its wing, or is devoid of it, you just simply can't maneuver it like a cruiser or destroyer.  Carriers just do not have the firepower to go wading into combat, they need to be coordinated with the other ships in the battle group.  _T'verra_ is no different."

            Harrison nodded.  "I will take direct command of _T'verra_ if we are able to capture her, I have experience with Kilrathi systems, and I can read the language fairly well myself.  I will coordinate the battle group from her as well."

            "Then who will be in charge of _Ranger_ may I ask?" 

            "Jonathan will take temporary command while I am aboard _T'verra_."

            "No!" Kliener returned, shooting to his feet.  "Captain Moore has absolutely no right to command a carrier."

            "He is the only choice," Omwatabie returned.  "To command a carrier, one must have served time as a pilot aboard one.  Captain Harrison and Captain Moore are the only ones who wear flight wings in this room.  The restrictions of maneuvering a heavy escort carrier like the _Ranger_ are no different than those of a fleet carrier."

            "I protest Captain, as the next highest ranking officer in the chain of command, I should be given _Ranger_!"

            "Kliener, you are true line fleet, you have never served with Starfighter Command.  I can't give you _Ranger_ even if I wanted to, which I don't.  The matter is settled, Captain Moore will command the _Ranger_ as soon as I transfer to _T'verra_.  Captain, who will take over the wing in your absence?"

            "My wife, I just need to do some juggling of the command structure," Jonathan returned.  "Winter will take over the Timber Wolves, but, that shouldn't be a problem."

            Harrison nodded, "all right, are there no more questions?" no one raised any.  "All right, we break orbit in an hour, this operation is officially underway.  Dismissed."

            With that, everyone exited the OPC.  Jonathan waited till the last of the other ship commanders had left, then looked at Harrison.  "Something on your mind Son?"

            "The fact that you'll be putting over on _T'verra_," Jonathan returned.  "I don't like it Alex.  Katar, Mitch and I figured that it would be Katar that would take over command.  In fact, Katar had been training his exec to take the _Kearsarge._"

            "Cannot be helped Jonathan," Alex returned.  "I am the only one who knows Kilrathi of the four ship commanders.  Katar might be able to maneuver _T'verra_ as if he were a carrier captain because he has guarded them for so long, but it still points down to the fact that I am the only one who could take command of her."

            "I don't like it."

            "I don't either, but I have to, I know however, that I am leaving _Ranger_ in good hands."

***

KILRATHI TEST STATION _NA'TAR_

EPSILON ENTARUS SYSTEM

0816 HOURS CST

AUGUST 30, 2564

            _Khantahr_ Lord Targa _narr_ Hhass frowned as he inspected the maneuvering bridge of his newest command, the Kilrathi Imperial Ship _T'verra_.  He could feel his tale flip as he thought of the fact that this proud ship was still docked next to this despicable station.  It served no real purpose for war.  It only was a place to send ships to have their systems tested before they went to the war fleet.  T'verra was no different, she was insulted by having to be tied to this place.  This station wasn't even worth a proper guard.  _narr_ Hhass was just glad his battle group would be arriving in a few hours, along with the rest of T'verra's crew and his wing.

            _narr_ Hhass smiled has he ran a clawed hand over his command throne.  _T'verra_ was a wonderful ship, he would bring glory and honor to both _narr_ Hhass and the Empire, that much was sure.  He had been designed with fighting in a small battle group in mind, only cruisers and destroyers, no escorts as others would.

            "Lord _narr_ Hhass!" a voice called out from the communication station.  The Kilrathi noble borne walked the short distance to the station and tapped in a few commands.  "Yes? What is it Lowborn?" 

            "_Kre'Vraat_ have registered energy surges consistent with multiple jump signatures at an uncharted jump point.  However, we do not detect any ships in that sector.  The _Kre'Vraat_ is moving to investigate."

            _narr_ Hhass growled.  "That decrepid excuse for a scow most likely has malfunctioning sensors again.  Leave it and his other worthless bretheren to their fools hunt.  Open all compartments Lowborn, I am finishing my inspection."

            "Yes _Khantahr_."

***

MANUVERING BRIDGE

KIS KRE'VRAAT 

EPSILON ENTARUS SYSTEM

0840 HOURST CST

AUGUST 30, 2564

            Jron Tras growled in furry as his tactical board once again faded out.  Why, he thought, why am I to command such a worthless ship as _Kre'Vraat_.  He might have been the pride of the fleet forty years ago, but now, now he was nothing more than a dumping place for those dishonored.  _Kre'Vraat_ had not even received repairs in eight-eights of days.  He was not the command Tras wanted, or deserved, however he was the only command a disgraced commoner could take, even one of Tras's record.  All of this had befallen him because he had dared to kill a member of Crown Prince Thrakhath's personal entourage.  No matter that the _kil_ had taken his mate for himself, out of Imperial Law, no mater that he had then killed her because she remained loyal to Tras, and not to the noble _kil_.  If he had been a member of nobility, he would have been of rights, even if the other _kil_ had been commoner as himself, he would have been of rights, but no.  Noble-born were above the wrath of commoner _kil_ as Tras.

            Tras frowned.  He should have been allowed to take his life for the shame that Thrakhath's cursed lacky had forced upon him, to never have his life mate by his side again, to never be able to hear the cries of cubs she was to give him.  No, Thrakhath had deemed him _unworthy_ of giving himself to Sivar, the God of War, and doomed him to forever live without his mate, or his honor.

            "_Khantahr_, I am receiving an intermittent contact," his sensor manager called out, and Tras nodded.  Like himself, all aboard the _Kre'Vraat_ were dishonored.  However, this _kil_, like all those that served him, were loyal to Tras, and cursed Thrakhath and his house with every bit of their warrior blood.

            "Bring us to bare on it _Sankarh_ Frekan," Tras returned as he was brought out of his brooding.  "Veka, bring the shields and weapon systems on line, I do not like the smell of this, not at all."

            The officer at the tactical station nodded.  _Khantahr-Tar_ Ekas Vren stepped closer, the _kil_ was the most trusted of the trustworthy in Tras's mind.  He would give his life for Tras, and Tras his, as how any warrior relationship should.  "Do you think this has to do with those jump signatures we thought we detected?"

            Tras growled an affirmative.  "Yes Vren, we may be behind our lines by many eights light leaps, but still, the apes are cunning hunters.  I do not care what the Emperor thinks of them.  They are not prey animals.  No, they are cunning, resourceful, and able warriors, everything a hunter is, and nothing that is prey."

            Vren nodded in agreement.  He shared those thoughts with his captain.  He had once been a pilot, an ace among aces, respected for his kill record, if not his station of birth.  He had never seen an ape that did not turn into the fight, and had seen several that took a warriors death to preserve their comrades.  It was those thoughts that had caused him ultimately to be disgraced.

            "Sir, the shields are up and weapons charged."

            "Very good."

            "Sir!" the tactical officer called out.  Energy spike and torpedo launch!!"

            Before the _kil_ could finish his statements _Kre'Vraat_ bucked and shuddered underneath everyone.  Tras smiled however.  Old as he may have been, _Kre'Vraat_ at least had some strength left in him.  "Where, where is the ship that fired?"

            "I cannot tell sir!!  I am attempting to trace the torpedo launch!"

            "_Braavra_ is moving forward to, shields fully charged."

            Tras growled.  The fool Grika T'Loss, too eager to take all that was not his.  This would get him killed.  "What is our shield status?"

            "Nominal sir!"

            "Fighter signatures!!! I repeat fighter signatures!!! Multiple contacts, many eights, configuration… Terran!"

            "They are inbound for _Braavra_."

***

"ROGUE LEADER"

EPSILON ENTAURUS SYSTEM

AUGUST 30, 2564

            "All right Rogues, line up on your escort patterns," Nikollette called out as she tipped her _Rapier_ onto it's port wing and slid downward relative to her previous orientation.  She loaded Jonathan's _Saber_ and the rest of Wolf One Flight.  "One Flight On me."

            "Roger," three other voices called out.

            "Marshal Strike, Wolf Lead, initiating attack run," Jonathan's voice called out as the flight of four _Sabers_ in front of her snapped up on their starboard wings as one, all four of them performing split turns almost as if they were connected by a durasteel rod through the flight.  The big fighters settled in on an attack vector for the destroyer along with the rest of the Timber Wolves.  _Kreasarge_ was handling the heavy cruiser, which was being slow to react.  That left the Timber Wolves to take care of its partner destroyer.

            "Roger Wolf Lead.  Rogue Lead you have cover, Fox Lead you are Combat Areospace Patrol with Marshal.  We are outside the station's detection range, you are clear to blow the destroyer," Kali returned from her station in the CIC.

            "All right people, lets do this by the book," Jonathan's voice sounded on the secondary COMNET receiver tuned to the Timber Wolves' tactical channel.  "Split up on your assigned flight rotations, section three, you're the hammer, one and two, we're the anvil."

            "Roger," thirty-two voices sounded out.

            "Rogues, we're going in."

            "Understand Love, we'll keep anything off your back."

***

MANEUVERING BRDIGE  
_KIS KRE'VRAAT_  
EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

            "Shields are failing!!" the _kil_ at tactical called out as sparks rained down on to everyone on the maneuvering bridge.  Tras growled, both in anger and in appreciation at the skill of the ape heavy cruiser commander.  He had taken full affect of whatever cloaking technology he was using, even now _Kre'Vraat_ could not see him, only his weapons fire and drive flares, but with _Kre'Vraat's_ guns and torpedoes down, he couldn't return fire.  A masterful strike Tras thought with true admiration.

            "Hyperpulse Communications off-line, we cannot raise the rest of our force, nor the station of _T'verra_."

            "Anti-matter plume!!  The _Braavra_ is hit!!  She is gone!"  Tactical called out again as _Kre'Vraat_ shook under the shockwave.

            "Sir, we can't fight, only one honor is left," Vren said gravely.

            "Honor my companion, all of has been denied that.  Communications, do we have any idea what sort of communications carrier waves the apes use?"

            "Yes sir."

            Tras frowned.  What he was about to do was considered the ultimate disgrace throughout the Empire, he still had to offer his crew a chance to try to gain their own honor back, he owed his loyal friends and followers at least that much.  "Open me a ship-wide channel."

            "Yes Sir."

             "Crew of the Imperial Ship _Kre'Vraat_.  We are outnumbered by a Terran attack force, and have had our weapons and long-range communications systems.  _Braavra_ is destroyed.  WE cannot fight back against these ships, I…  I will surrender this ship to the Apes, it is my only choice, for I am already disgraced beyond all hope of recovering honor.  However, I know many of you still have a chance to make good your names and recover your honor.  Any who wish, take _Zu'kara_, I wish you all the honor you can find in death, I will find a way to place your names on the roles of Sivar's Glory."

            With that, Tras sighed and sat back, waiting for his crew to take their last chance for honor, to escape disgrace, through ritual suicide of the doomed, _Zu'kara_.  However, none lifted their knives, all of them stood, and turned to Tras.  "We fallow you Lord _Khantahr_," the communications officer announced, followed by all those on the bridge all of them kneeling and bearing their throats to Tras, a action only the right of one _noble_ born.  Echoing from the ships comes were similar announcements, the crew refusing _Zu'kara_.

            "Thank you," Tras growled softly.  "Communications, input a Terran communications frequency that we know of, local broadcast, make sure nothing leaks into the system, I do not want the Station knowing, I have a feeling what they are after."

            "Yes Lord Tras."

            Tras had to think a moment, he had been trained in Terran standard in _Khantahr_ school, but that had been several-eights years ago.  "Terran Force… This is _Khantahr_ Tras of the _KIS_ _Kre'Vraat_, we… Surrender."

***

OPERATIONS PLANING CENTER  
_TCS RANGER_ (CVEH-3)

EPSILON ENTARUS SYSTEM  
0910 HOURS CST

            Jonathan stretched his neck a bit to get the kink out of it that had always developed after landing.  He was sitting at his usual place to the left of Harrison, waiting for the other commanders to arrive.

            First to enter was Omwatabie, followed by Freeman, the Kliener.  Finally, as the last of the human officers sat down, Alex nodded to the marine at the hatch.  The Marine nodded and the hatch opened, a broad, solidly built Kilrathi entered guarded by two Marines in full combat armor and carrying pulse rifles.

            "What is the meaning of this Harrison!!" Kliener fairly screamed as he drew the sidearm he always carried and pointed it directly at the Kilrathi.

            "Captain Kliener, this is _Khantahr_ Jron Tras, commanding officer of the ex-Imperial Ship _Kre'Vraat_.  He has surrendered to the battle group, and he and his crew have renounced their allegiance to the Empire and its war.  They have offered us a Trojan Horse for our objective."

            "You can't be serious, we should space the whole lot of them right now."

            "Kliener, for once would you use your head and not that stupid paranoia of yours?" Jonathan growled, not feeling like listening to Kliener's constant protesting anymore.  "We don't space anyone in this navy, not Humans, not Kilrathi.  He and his crew have turned themselves willingly over to us."

            "Then we ship blast that old clunker of his and then put them all in the brig."

            "_Enough!_" Harrison finally bellowed, catching everyone off guard.  "Kliener, one more word of killing Tras or his crew and you will be in your own brig aboard _Excellencia!_  Tras has offered his services, and I am accepting them."

            "I don't mean to sound rude to our guest," Freeman said as he took out a cigar and began to chomp down on it, without lighting the thing.  "But, why would you turn on your own people _Khantahr_?"

            Tras gave a very human shrug, and let his claws extend and retract a few times.  "The truth is _Khantahr_-_Tar_ Freeman," he started in very heavily accented, and gruttled English.  "Is that the Empire has abandoned us.  We are disgraced by the noble born.  I had myself killed one of Prince Thrakhath's followers and favorites, condemning me to a life of dishonor, not even allowed to give my life to Sivar."

            "Barbaric," Kliener mumbled.

            "Different culture," Jonathan returned.  "I'm not saying it is right for us, but remember, Kilrathi just do not think like us."

            "You of all people condoning the Kilrathi?" Kliener bit back.  "After what they did to your family?"

            Jonathan's eyes hooded over in seething anger.  "Kliener, I may have reason to hate the Kilrathi, I always will hate the one who captained that destroyer that blew the star liner my parents and sisters were on out of space, but that does not make me a cold blooded killer.  When this war is over, if it is in my lifetime, I will very much be happy to never kill again, I have too much blood on my hands as it is."

            Tras looked at the exchange quietly, telling himself that the youngest one in attendance, this, _Sho_-_Khantahr_ Moore was expressing the Human's belief in the wrongness of taking sentient life without cause.  He had always found that strange, but, unlike almost all noble-born, he had accepted it as the culture differences between the two races.  After all, had not these very same humans proven time and time again they were true hunters?

            Still, they seemed to also have their upstarts, he wondered if this Kliener was one of their noble born, he had been told there really was no such thing in the Confederation, but he truly doubted that, especially after seeing this exchange.  Kliener was a pompous arrogant _zivat_.  It was a credit to the young pilot warrior that he held his rage in check.  The mention of his family's death and the accusation that he would let those deaths go un-avenged truly upset him, no matter the words he said.  To this, Tras understood all too well the loss of a family.

            "Well, if you killed one of High Kitty's favorite toadies, you can't be too bad Tras," Freeman finally said with a smile.  

            Tras made a grasping gesture with his claws.  "Thank you, I think, _Khantahr_-_Tar_ Feeman."

            "So," Omwatabie finally spoke up.  "How do we intend to use the _Kre'Vraat_?"

            "She will approach the station with _Kearsarge_ in her shadow sensor," Harrison began as he brought up a computer generated hologram of the new plan.  Ranger and the rest of the battle group will be trailing behind.  The Star Marshals will be on magnum launch priority, first off the deck will be a flight of _Rapiers_ and then a flight of _Ferrets_ to defend _Kearsarge_ during the boarding operations.  _Kre'Vraat's_ power plants put out a rather large energy signature, mainly because they are not shielded quite the same way as newer plants on either side.  That should be able shield the _Kearsarge_ till the very last minute.  At that moment, _Kearsarge_ will bring her shields and weapons online and initiate boarding on the _T'verra_ and the Marshals will launch.  _Kre'Vraat_ will also protect the _Kearsarge_ during the operation."

            "You have got to be kidding me," Kliener said with a laugh.  "That bucket is over fifty years old, there is no way she'll be able to fight!"

            "_Kre'Vraat_ might be old, and he might not have all the teeth of your newer ships," Tras rumbled.  "But he still has fight left in him, enough, I should think, for this last of duties."

            Everyone save Kliener nodded in respect.  All of them knew what the crew of the _Kre'Vraat_ was doing, and that none of them were likely to come back.  Still, they were going to do it anyways, because they believed it was the one way they could rite the wrongs against them."

            "All right people, lets get this show on the road, Tras, dose the _Kre'Vraat_ need any repairs?"

            "No, he is functional," Tras returned.  "Plus, if you repair him to any degree, the station's sensors will know.  The noble born who commands _T'verra_, _narr_ Hhass, knows it has been many eights-days since _Kre'Vraat_ has seen a repair yard."

            Harrison nodded gravely.  "All right, we are in the end game people, Jonathan, stand up."

            Jonathan did so, a bit surprised at the request.  Still, Omwatabie and Freeman were smiling.  "As of this moment, at 0915 Hours Confederate Standard Time, I, Captain Alexander Harrison turn command of the heavy escort carrier _TCS Ranger_ over to you, Captain Jonathan Moore."

            "Sir?"

            "We can't afford to have me shuttling over in a middle of a fire fight Son," Harrison returned with a lopsided smile.  "I am transferring over to the _Kearsarge_ on Katar's shuttle.  _Ranger's_ yours now son, at least, until this whole episode is over."

            "Yes sir," Jonathan said as he snapped to attention, and Harrison returned the gesture.

            "All right, lets go grab us a carrier."

***

KILRATHI TEST STATION _NA'TAR_

EPSILON ENTARUS SYSTEM

1230 HOURS CST

AUGUST 30, 2564

            _narr_ Hhass smiled as he inspected the engineering spaces of _T'verra_.  He had the most advanced engines, nothing in the Imperial Home Fleet would match him for speed.  The Apes themselves would never be able to catch the _T'verra_ when she started raiding their systems, hunting for prey.

            "Verry good," he rumbled to the commoner manning the engineering spaces.  This would be the closest this _kil_ would ever hear of a compliment from noble born.  More than he really deserved _narr_ Hhaas thought, much more.  It was the nobles after all, that all glory and honor should go to, just as the Crown Prince was preaching.

            "Thank you Lord _Khantahr_," the commoner returned with a bowed head.

            "When will you be ready to break free of this despicable station?"

            "Whenever the rest of the battle group arrives Lord _Khantahr_."

            _narr_ Hhass nodded.  Not much longer he thought, not much longer that he could cast away this disdaining, honor less station and its shamed escorts.  That would please _narr_ Hhass greatly.

            "Lord _Khantahr_," another commoner, a runner from the maneuvering bridge, called out, kneeling and bearing his throat to the noble born.  "_Kre'Vraat_ is on approach to station, he is calling in for necessary repairs."

            "He is not worthy of repair, dose not his _Khantahr_ realize this?"

            "Khantahr Tras informs us that _Kre'Vraat_ needs these repairs or he will fall out of space.  WE cannot deny him that My Lord, it would be wasteful."

            _narr_ Hhaas rumbled.  "Very well, signal the station that he is clear to dock.

***

MANEUVERING BRIDGE  
EX-_KIS KRE'VRAAT_

EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

            "Lord _Khantahr_, they have given us clearance to the station," the communications officer reported with obvious pleasure in his voice.

            "Very well," Tras responded, letting the calculations flow into his mind for his next few actions.  He took a deep breath, bared his fangs, and stood.  This sort of thing should be done standing he thought, like an ancient warrior on old Kilrah.

            "Engineering! Increase power on engines two and four, helm, bring us about to port.  Tactical! Power the shields and charge weapons!  Communications…" Tras smiled at the words he would say next, knowing the surprise that would be on that fool noble's face.  "Raise the _Kre'Vraat's_ battle claws!"

            All the crew chimed in at once, all eager, and competent, and willing to do what ever their _khantahr_ asked of them.

***

TESTING STATION _NA'TAR_  
EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

            "Lord!!"  A communications officer called out in a panic.  "Kre'Vraat is transmitting battle claws and her shields have raised!"

            "What? What is that commoner doing?" narr Hhass roared as he walked along a corridor of the T'verra.

            "New enegy signatures!! Multiple energy signatures close range!" another officer called out over the intercom system.  "They are Tarren!!"

            "WHAT!"

***

COMBAT INFORMATION CENTER

_TCS KEARSARGE_ (CGH-75)

EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

1231 HOURS CST

            Katar Omwatabie smiled as his crew reported their systems coming on line.  _Kearsarge_ was coming alive around him as her shields and weapons systems came online.  Omwatabie heard the reports in his ear as his crew called out each systems readiness, and his executive officer reported from the bridge exactly what his people in CIC were telling the Gurka.

            Unlike many captains, Omwatabie preferred to fight his ship from the CIC deep inside the ship, instead of her bridge.  Hear in the dark coffin surrounded by pinpoints of light, the Gurka could have everything at his figure tips, and her preferred the tactical board rather than an outside view for fighting his ship.

            Omwatabie smiled as he tapped the control on one of the communications panels. "My compliments to Colonel Winsow and Captain Harrison, launch the marine landing transports."

            "Aye sir," the communications officer returned

            "_Ranger_ is launching her fighters, the first flight of _Rapiers_ are out into space, make that first flight of _Rapiers_ and _Ferrets_, she is now launching her _Skyhawk_," sensors called out.

            Katar smiled.  Contrary to Kliener's ravings, Captain Moore's flight schedule and training regime turned the Star Marshals from a hodgepodge of squadrons to a well oiled fighting machine.  The proof was showing up around _Kearsarge_ as they approached the station, the _Ranger_ had been able to launch her first two flights faster than originally predicted, meaning she would have more fighters in space to cover the operation.

            "Helm, bring us about one half kilometer under the _Kre'Vraat_, weapons, open fire on the station."

            "Aye sir."

***

"FOX NINE"  
LAUNCHING FROM _TCS RANGER_  
EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

            "Fox Nine, your flight has guard over the transports, Rogue One Flight is your cover," Kali Jacob's voice called out in Franklin Trimane's ears as his Ferret was thrown from the Ranger's deck, joined by the rest of his flight, minus Johnson.

            "Roger that Marshal Strike," Franklin called out, then brought up the group of landing transports.  The things were big, boxy and slow compared to a starfighter, especially his _Ferret_.  "All right people, stick close to the transports, no glory hogging, we protect the Captain and his friends, end of story."

            "Roger," two voices called out as the flight of three tucked in against the transports.

            Trimane nodded grimly.  Not more than a few days ago he would have been chaffing at this assignment, believing it was beneath him.

            No more, not after Johnson's crash.

            Now, he would stay with these transports, he would be a shield, even if it got him killed.  He would no longer stand to have anyone hurt or killed because of his actions.  He was not going to live the life of a spoiled brat anymore.

            "Lieutenant, we have fighters launching from the station, _Krants_ and _Sartha_ light fighters," his new wingman called out.

            Trimane took a quick look at the situation, two Kilrathi squadrons of eight fighters he thought, the _Krants_ were less maneuverable than the _Ferret_, but had more firepower.  The _Sarthas_ were about equal.  He saw where Commander Moore's flight of _Rapiers_ had already set themselves up as a shield against the incoming fighters as both _Kreasarge_ and _Kre'Vraat_ opened fire on the station, pouring energy into it to distract their gunners from the landing transports.  "Three Flight, this is nine, extend out a little from the transports but do not leave them to get into the furball, let the Rogues handle them, we'll take whatever dribbles through their net."

            There was a hesitation, those were strange orders, but they were the ordes, and if there was one thing good that had come from his previous ideas was the fact that his flight had been trained to follow him.  "Roger," two voices responded.  Trimane smiled, he would not go glory hogging again.

***

BRIDGE  
_TCS RANGER_ (CVEH-3)

EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

            Jonathan shifted uncomfortably in the command chair as he watched the crew go about their duties around him.  He really had nothing to do at the moment, Ranger was under the command of Kaytlin Tarns as the flight deck officer as she launched the Star Marshals.  He did not even have any control of his wing either, they were under the coordination of Lieutenant Jacobs and Nikollette.  Jonathan didn't like the feeling of uselessness he was feeling at the moment.

            "A bit nerve racking huh Captain?" Commander Lessings asked from his side and Jonathan turned in the dimly lit compartment to see the taller man was smiling.

            "I feel more at home in a cockpit, I will admit that."

            "If it makes you feel any better sir, Captain Harrison is much the same way during a launch, now you get to know how he feels while you are out in space."

            Jonathan nodded, and looked across at the tactical board that dominated the Bridge's forward bulkhead.  Unlike many carrier bridges, Rangers was not a open area ontop of the superstructre, actually, it was at its base, just above the flight deck.  The reason was because the bridge had originally been in this area when she was being built as a cruiser.  It made the bridge a bit more survivable.

            Jonathan sat forward as he watched the battle develop, Nikollette and her Rogues had stopped what looked like a group of Krants cold, but two light fighters had slipped through the net that the Rogues had set up.  Those fighters however, did not make it past Trimaine's flight forming the close in barrier.  Jonathan smiled at that, he had heard Trimane's orders to his flight over the COMNET being piped into the bridge.  Those orders were the opposite of what he would have called out only a few days before.

            "Captain," the tactical officer called out.  "The station is registering a power drop, the transports are hard docking with the carrier now."

            Jonathan nodded.  "Were are _Excellencia_ and _Midway_?"

            "_Excellencia_ is our close in guard, _Midway_ is trailing to our rear as our rear guard."

            Jonathan nodded; at least Kliener was going by the game plan.  "Pipe the marine's COMNET channels into the bridge."

            "Aye sir."

***

MARINE TRANSPORT ALPHA THREE  
HARD DOCKED TO KIS T'VERRA

EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM  
1234 HOURS CST

            Captain Alex Harrison gripped the magnetic slug thrower as the boarding crew attached a code breaker to one of the external airlock hatches of _T'verra_.  Within moments the airlocks swung open and marines, in full combat armor and sealed atmospheric helmets poured out of the transport and into the corridors.  Three Kilrathi went down in the opening shots, eight more were down as the marines spread out, securing the deck.

            "Status report?" Harrison called out through hi helmet mounted COMNET receiver.

            "We just hit the biggest jackpot in the whole of the Confederation Captain!" the voice of the technical expert that was with the crew tasked to take the maneuvering bridge.  "Every single compartment was open!!  Even the bridge! We have command of it now, the Cats must have been doing some sort of inspection."

            Harrison nodded and smiled, they got lucky, extremely lucky.  "Engineering team?"

            "We got a prize for you sir," the _T'verra's_ new chief engineer called out.  "Not only were we able to capture engineering but the drives are powered up and ready to pull free of the station, _and_ we have the ship's commanding officer here."

            "Alive?"

            "After a fashion, we had to wound him a couple times, but our corpsman says he will live."

            Harrison listened to the rest of the reports and smiled, the ship had been secured even faster than Harrison would have ever thought.  It had cost though, five marines dead, another twenty three wounded in some form, and over a hundred Kilrathi dead, another two hundred wounded.

            "All right, throw everyone who isn't injured in this ship's bridge, prepare to cast off lines, I am going to the bridge, tune this buckets communications gear to COMNET channels."

            "Aye sir."

            As Harrison made it to the bridge, all the stations save the flight control station were manned.  The ship did not have any pilots, but a extra perk, the entire compliment of fighters for the _T'verra's_ wing was stored in the hanger deck, waiting for pilots.  "We ready to move?"

            "_Somewhat_ sir, we're locked into the station still, though it is effectively dead in space thanks to _Kearsarge_ and the _Kre'Vraat_," his temporary executive officer called out.  "I think I have devised a solution."

            "Implement it then Commander, we need to get this tub moving as quickly as possible."

            "Aye sir," the young woman said as she turned toward the tactical officer.  "Seal all airlocks, tactical, open fire on my command."

            "All locks closed ma'am."

            "Fire."

            Outside, four of the _T'verra's_ point defense batteries maneuvered and pointed directly at the two mooring lines and gangways.  The batteries opened fire, cutting into the mooring lines and gangways.  It took only a few moments for the mass of energy to cut completely through the obstacles, and the _T'verra_ leaned out and away from the station as she was cut free.

            "We are free and clear to maneuver captain," the executive officer reported.

            Harrison smiled, "Bring us into formation with the Ranger, I want the battle group outbound as fast as possible."

            "_T'verra_ this is _Ranger_," Jonathan's voice called out from the speakers."

            "_T'verra_ here, what is it son?"

            "Winchester just reported multiple jump signatures from a jump point the crew of the _Kre'Vraat_ identified as the main line into the Empire, composition of the ships and power signatures suggests two heavy cruisers and three destroyers."

***

FLAG BRIDGE  
_KIS VAQUIRG_  
EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM  
1300 HOURS CST

AUGUST 30, 2564

            Cruiser _J'rog_ Cantar _narr_ Hhass growled as his sensor officers reported a Terran battle group in system, and the _T'verra_ maneuvering into formation with them.  The decrepit old cruiser Kre'Vraat was also forming up with the Ape ships.  So, that dishonored _zivat_ Tras finally completed his dishonor.  They must have killed Targa for him to given up his ship.  That was something else the Apes and traitors would pay for.

            "Helmsman! Push the claw up to flank speed, I want those ships in my grasp!"

            "Yes Lord _J'gore."_

***

COMBAT INFORMATION CENTER  
_TCS RANGER (CVEH-3)_

OUTBOUND FOR JUMP POINT  
EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM  
1400 HOURS CST

AUGUST 30, 2564

            "What's the situation?" Jonathan asked as he entered CIC, he had left Commander Lessings on the bridge to command the maneuvering of the ship, deciding that Jonathan would actually fight her deep in her guts from her CIC.  Here he not only had the ship's sensors at his command, but those of the SWACs and sensor feeds from all the ships of the battle group.  He also had better communications equipment, and a direct link to Harrison aboard the _T'verra._

            "Doesn't look good sir," Kali reported.  "The cruiser group that jumped in is faster than the _T'verra buy a good hundred KPS, they'll reach us thirty minutes before we hit the jump point."_

            "I want the Timber Wolves up on strike packages," Jonathan announced.

            "Might want to cancel that Son," Harrison's voice called out from the row of video screens that displayed the faces of each ship captain, including Khantahr Tras.  "You won't have time to recover a strike package before we jump, and you know what sort of havock trying to do an interstellar jump with a full squadron of Sabers can be, even though they can do it, I don't want to risk them."

            "Then what do we do prey-tell?" Kliener asked in sarcasm.

            Harrison gave a heavy sigh.  "_Excellencia and __Midway are going to have to play a delaying action."_

            Kliener visibly paled.  "De… Delaying action? You can't be serious!"

            "He is Kliener," Freeman returned.  "Look, I don't like this anymore than you, but fact is _Excellencia and __Midway are the two fastest ships in the battle group, we can rush out, buy hopefully a half hour, and then rush back, jump out, and hopefully rejoin the battle group on the other side."_

            Kliener blanched, but was not allowed to say another word.  "_Excellencia, __Midway," Harrison called out.  "Your detached."_

            "Aye sir," Freeman responded and his screen flickered out,

            "I am going to have your bars for this Harrison," Kliener grumbled and then winked out himself.

            "_Excellencia and __Midway are coming about and accelerating to top speed, shields are up and weapons charged."_

            "Time to jump point?" Jonathan asked.

            "Forty-five minutes."

            "Time till the _Excellencia and __Midway make contact with the Kilrathi ships?"_

            "Five minutes sir."

            "Kali, begin recovery operations, Winchester is to RTB first, then by our pre assigned pull out order," Jonathan said softly, calculating that they would get everyone back aboard within ten minutes of the jump point.

            "Aye sir."

            "Weapons! Bring up the point defense guns and main batteries!" Jonathan called out as he turned back toward the tactical board.  Another hold over from her cruiser heritage, _Ranger had a single heavy weapon mount mounted for and aft of the superstructure, hopefully, she would not need them._

***

FLAG BRIDGE  
_KIS VAQUIRG_

EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM  
1404 HOURS CST

AUGUST 30, 2564

            "Report!" _narr_ Hhass called out as his ship shook underneath him

            "A cruiser and destroyer have engaged us, _C'tos_ has been taking out of the fight by a combined volley, the ships are now targeting us."

            _narr_ Hhass roared at the thought of _Vaquirg's_ sister ship dead in space from a volley of energy and missile fire.  He had ordered the claw to run at minimal shields to be able to put more power into the engines to catch up with the Apes.  That had reversed on them horrible as the Apes had caught the _C'tos_ without combat shields up.

            "Bring our weapons to bare, order the claw to engage the cruiser, ignore the destroyer, she will be easy prey after this cruiser is gone."

            "Yes Lord."

***  
  


BRIDGE  
_TCS EXCELLENCIA_ (CGF-84)

EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

            "Shields at fifty percent!!! Forward Torpedo mounts are gone!  Main batteries at less than seventy percent capacity!" Tactical called out.

            "The scout squadron is down to forty percent, they just don't have the firepower to stand to capital ships!" the flight officer called out.

            It was all wrong Kliener thought, all wrong, this was not suppose to happen, this was suppose to be an easy run, a quick way for him to get his own cruiser-destroyer group.  He refused to believe that his ship was coming apart around him, no, it couldn't be.  "Order the fighters for another pass."

            "Sir!?" the flight officer called out in sheer confusion as sparks rained down on the bridge, stations blowing apart all around them.  The officer at helm was already dead, communications had taken a gut full of shrapnel and was not expected to live either.

            "I said order those fighters for another pass!!!" Kliener fairly screemed out.  "I don't care if every single one of them is destroyed, as long as they give us the time to get away, I don't care!  We have done or orders by God and I will not stay here and risk my neck for that fool Harrison one moment longer!!  Order the _Midway_ to act as a shield, she hasn't been hit yet, time for her to do some good!"

            "Sir, if she does that, she won't be able to return fire as she has been doing!"

            "She hasn't done us much good, one destroyer down out of three? And that bloody cruiser untouched?  I want Freeman to shield us!"

            "But sir!"

            "Are you all mutinying?" Kliener screamed, his voice rising to pitches most thought not possible for a man.  He drew his side arm and pointed it directly at his tactical and communications officer.  "You will follow my orders or…"

            Kliener never finished his statement.  _Excellencia_ took another hit from the big cruiser, the deck underneath him erupted as part of the power feed running through the deck, throwing across the bridge and into the broken communications station.  His executive officer rushed to his side as he landed, but it was already to late, Kliener's eyes were opened and glazed, his mouth frozen in a silent scream of death.

            The executive officer sighed and closed his former captain's eyes.  Then, he stood and faced his crew, a total of three remained alive on the bridge.  "What did that last blast do to us?"

            "Engineering is out, we can't maneuver if we wanted to, weapons are gone and shields are failing," Tactical returned.

            The executive officer sighed, and then looked up.  "Order the last of the scout squadron to the _Ranger_, send the _Midway_ back to the battle group too, no use in them dying as well, and get everyone to the escape shuttles, we are abandoning ship."

            "Aye sir," Tactical returned.  "All hands abandon ship, all hands abandon ship!"

***  
  


FLAG BRIDGE  
_KIS VAQUIRG_  
EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM  
            "The cruiser is coming apart!" the tactical officer called out as out in front of the _Vaquirg_ the Ape ship began to tear itself apart under the guns of the battle group.  A victory roar went up on the flag bridge, but _narr_ Hhass silenced it, they had lost a destroyer to that cursed heavy destroyer the Apes had escorting the cruiser.

            No matter, the destroyer had failed his duty, _narr_ Hhass thought with a smile, now, he would die like the cruiser.  "All guns, focus on that destroyer, I want its crew as more gifts for Sivar."

            "Yes Lord!"

***

  
BRIDGE  
_TCS MIDWAY_ (DDGH-153)

EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

            "By Allah," Freeman's Arabic first officer muttered as the entire bridge crew watched the death of the _Excellencia_.  She came apart it seemed from inside out, as if her whole superstructure had been fractured.  Her main guns came loose from their turrets, then, her bow sheared off, finally, the entire ship simply fell apart before her reactor went critical, a bright flash signaling the cruiser's final death throw.

            "Did anyone get out?" Freeman asked his tactical officer.

            "Yes sir, eight shuttles and what is left of the scout squadron.  We can take on the shuttles, but not the squadron."

            "Take on the shuttles," Freeman returned.  "The fighters can make it back to _Ranger_."

            "Aye sir."

            Suddenly the _Midway_ shook violently knocking the big man that Freeman was off his feet ant the deck of the bridge.  A wide cut opened up on the man's forehead, and three of his bridge crew rushed to his side.  He pushed them away however as he stood, accepting a bandage patch from the bridge corpsman.  Freeman did not need to ask what had just happened, he knew his ship, knew it well, and he also knew what was happening.

            "Tactical, keep power to the shields, do we have any torpedoes loaded?"

            "Aye sir, two are left."

            "Get a lock on the cruiser and fire, bring all forward batteries that we can to bear, but get those shuttles aboard, we are not leaving anyone out here to die."

            "Aye sir."

            The _Midway_ took another hard hit and sparks rained from several of the stations and the communications officer had to duck to keep from receiving a flash burn as the lighting around his station erupted.  "Shields at twenty eight percent!!"

            "Torpedoes are jammed sir!"

            Just great Freeman thought in anger, his main punch against larger ships, his single torpedo mount of two launchers, was gone.  He still had the _Midway's_ main energy gun batteries, and those could do very serious damage, but not in the short time he had left.  "How many shuttles are aboard?!"

            "Last one is coming up sir!"

            "Bring us around!! Full burn if you can, lets get out'a here!"

            "Aye sir.  We can't survive another hit sir."

            "I know Tac, I know, but we still have full engineering control, have them run the engines up to full thrust, we need to put as much distance between us and that blasted cruiser before she can reload their torpedo rack."

            "Aye sir"

            "Sir!!" someone new called out, most likely one of the sensor operators.  "_Kre'Vraat_ is on coarse for engagement, at her full burn!"

            What? Freeman thought as he watched his bridge's furnishings come apart under the stress.  What is that Cat doing?  "Coms, get me the _Kre'Vraat_!"

            "She's up sir!"

            "Tras!! What are you doing! Back out you can't take on a heavy cruiser and its destroyer group!"

            "You have weakened him nicely for us _Khantahr-Tar_ Freeman, we will be your cover.  Join the rest of the battle group, and when you return to your port, lament and praise the passing of the crew of the _Kre'Vraat_, for he is going to do our last of duties."

            "He can't serious," Freeman's exec breathed, more in aw than horror.

            "He is Vatie, he is."

            "_Allah Ackbar_," the dark skinned man breathed the traditional prayer of his religion as the sensors displayed the _Kre'Vraat_ moving at top speed towards the enemy cruiser.

            "God be Praised," Freeman said himself, repeating the words in standard.  The crew of the _Kre'Vraat_ was brave; Freeman would always remember that, and the sacrifice they had given to let the _Midway_ and the battle group escape.

            "Helm! Get us out'a here!"  
  


***

FLAG BRIDGE  
_KIS VAQUIRG_  
EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

            "What is that dishonored fool doing!" _narr_ Hhass roared as he watched the tactical plot, the form representing the _Kre'Vraat_ as it speed towards the symbol that represented the _Vaquirg_.

            "He is planning on ramming us sire!"

            "I know that!  Open Fire!! Full forward batteries!  Helm!  Bring us about and out of his way!"

***

MANEUVERING BRIDGE  
EX-_KIS KRE'VRAAT_  
EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM

            Khantahr Jron Tras sat stoically on his command throne.  Sparks and explosions went off around him and his crew, but none moved, none moved from their station.  The _Vaquirg_ looming larger in the view ports, and death as well with it.

            There was no mourning on the bridge however, only the sounds of the death chant, the final prayers to Sivar.  The chants were echoing throughout the ship, the crew new their fate, they accepted, even reveled in it, this would be their last act, to truly reclaim all the honor that had so wrongfully been stripped from them.

            Tras saw the _Vaquirg_ turning, ever so slowly, fighting its own forward momentum and mass.  No, Tras thought with a smile.  You will not escape so easily, _Kre'Vraat_ and his crew will have their honor restored.

***

COMBAT INFORMATION CENTER  
_TCS_ _RANGER_ (CVEH-3)  
APROACHING JUMP POINT  
EPSILON ENTARSUS SYSTEM  
1408 HOURS CST  
AUGUST 30, 2564

            "Good Lord," Kali breathed out as the entire CIC was silent.  Every single eye was locked on the sensor screens providing an image of the last moments of the _Kre'Vraat_.

            The cruiser barreled in towards the larger, more modern heavy cruiser.  Her shields shimmered as energy washed over them from the cruiser's main guns.  Finally the shields failed and the opposing cruiser's fire tore into the ship itself, hull plates exploded and gun mounts simply were torn away, yet, the old ship continued forward.  Nothing would stop the _Kre'Vraat_ on its final mission.

            The heavy cruiser seemed to know this as it began to turn.  It was too late, the _Kre'Vraat_ speared the bigger ship along her midpoint.  While smaller, the combined mass of both ships and the _Kre'Vraat's_ forward momentum would tell the tale.  There was a blinding flash as the _Ranger's_ sensors tried to compensate for the explosion of two power plants going critical.  When the flash faded, there was nothing left of the two ships but debris; nothing left, of the proud crew of the _Kre'Vraat_, but a memorial, and a chance.

            "Flight Deck Control!" Jonathan called out, breaking the long silence.  "How are we on recovery operations?"

            "Most of our fighters are in, the leftovers from _Excellencia's_ scout wing are on approach, most of them are pretty well banged up," Kaytlin returned.  "The deck is rigged for crash landing ops.  Give me twenty minutes to get them all on deck."

            "You have fifteen, and I am coming down to Vulture's Row."

***

FLIGHT DECK  
_TCS RANGER_ (CVEH-3)

APPROACHING JUMP POINT

            Nikollette stripped her flight helmet just as her husband made it to the flight deck, the corridor hatch opening near where her fighter was parked.  She smiled as he walked up to her, once again the two hugged, regulations be damned.  "How'd it go?"

            "Spirit had to punch out, most of Three Flight went EV, but Rover was able to pick them up, it's coming in now."

            Jonathan turned and saw the CSAR shuttle clear the rear mag-con fields and slam into the deck, catching a wire and being yanked to a stop.  The shuttle was motioned off the flight line and a medic team rushed it, helping those already aboard get the pilots to the medical deck.

            "How about the other squadrons?"

            "The Timber Wolves didn't get to deploy, the Sky Foxes took some heavy beating though.  Trimane is still out their in landing formation.  He refused to land till all the other fighters that were damaged made it to deck.  He doesn't have much control left," Nikollette said as the pair jogged up to the Vulture's Row. Where they joined Kaytlin and her flight deck control team.

            "Fox Nine, Fox Nine, this is Deck Control, you are on approach vector, clear for landing, do you wish to declare an emergency?" Kayltin called out into her headset.

            "This is Fox Nine, declaring an emergency approach," Trimane's voice called out over a scratchy COMNET channel.  "I have lost all avionics, controls are sluggish and I can barely get any power from the main drive."

            "Roger Fox Nine," Kaytlin returned, and then stabbed the button that activated the flight deck's inetercom system.  "Flight Deck, Flight Deck, rig for Emergency, I repeat Rig for Emergency, we have a wounded Ferret coming aboard!"

            The deck crews leapt into action, clearing the flight-line as much as possible, tossing ordnance that was still loaded onto fighters close to the line down emergency chutes toward the men and women in the magazines below, finally a strong durasteal mesh emergency harness was stretched across the deck, incase Trimane's fighter did not grab any of the arrestor wires.

            "Fox Nine, you are on approach final," Jonathan heard the Landing Signal Officer or LSO call out.  "Call your Ball."

            "Fox Nine, _Ferret_ Ball, with no aids on emergency."

            "Roger Fox Nine, you're a little high, little high, ad some power…"

            Jonathan held his breath as he listened to the LSO call out directions for Trimaine, although approach speeds were a fraction of those fighters traveled in combat, things still happened very fast with landings.  Jonathan could now see the _Ferret_, it was trailing smoke from some compartment or another that was leaking oxygen, feeding some small fire.  

            "Your on the path Nine, hold it there, little more power…. Cut!!!" the LSO called out as the _Ferret_ cleared the magnetic containment fields and slammed into the deck hard, harder than it should have.  The _Ferret_ caught a wire, bit its port main landing gear buckled under the strain of the harsh landing, sending the fighter rolling along the flight line till it was caught by the emergency harness.

            Everyone held their breath as fire-fighting crews ran for the fighter, dousing it with firefighting foam.  The fighter had not erupted into flames as it had tumbled, but no one was taking any chances.  As the fire fighters worked, a emergency crew yanked open the canopy, which was crumpled in many placed.  The worked as fast, but as carefully as they could, one wrong move could kill the pilot.  Finally, Trimane's body was hoisted from the fighter and placed on a stretcher, rushed to a corridor hatch and towards the medical deck.

            "Emergency crew said he was alive sir," Kaytlin said in obvious relief and everyone in Vultures Row let out a cheer.

            Jonathan nodded, the pressed the open Channel he had set up to the rest of the battle group.  "Battle Group Commander, this is _Ranger_, all fighters are aboard, I repeat, all fighters are aboard, we also have what is left of the _Excellencia's_ squadron as well."

            "Very well Captain," Harrison said with a heavy sigh.  "Prepare to jump out, lets put this miserable system behind us and get this tub to a fleet yard so they can start tearing her down."

            "Aye sir."

***

MCAFFLIN STATION  
CONFED VEGA SECTOR HEADQUARTERS AND FLEET YARDS  
MCAFFLIN SYSTEM  
VEGA SECTOR FRON LINES  
1240 HOURS, CST

SEPTEMBER 6, 2564

            Jonathan sighed as he watched the deck crews move about Ranger, completing repairs to the deck and regular maintenance.  Three days before, the Ranger and the rest of the battle group put into McAfflin Station, where ConFed Intelligence and Fleet Design went ape over their new toy as the _T'verra_ came to rest alongside Ranger.  A crew swarmed her as soon as she had stopped and began tearing her down immediately.  This would be the first Kilrathi fleet carrier that the Confederation had actually captured in the war, and everyone was taking as much an advantage of it as they could.

            The prize however, had come with a cost.  Out of _Excellencia's_ crew of six hundred and fifty, on two hundred had survived.  _Kre'Vraat_ had gone down with all eight hundred hands aboard, taking the heavy cruiser with it, giving the battle group time as the destroyers left turned and began recovery operations.  _Midway_ had also taken fifty casualties, and Three Flight from the Jolly Rogers would be off duty for another good month and a half.

            One good thing had come from the whole mess, Trimane's attitude change.  He had become an officer to be proud of, and not the snotty brat he had been.  Jonathan was relieved when he learned that while he had a broken arm, the young Lieutenant would make a full recovery in a few weeks and make it back onto the flight line.

            "Penny for your thoughts Son?" Harrison asked as he came up beside Jonathan, looking out the aft end of the Ranger as ships of the fleet entered and left the station's dockyard.

            "Just thinking of some of the costs sir."

            Harrison nodded.  "He was a pain, but he didn't deserve to die, I agree, him, or over half his crew," Harrison then turned to Jonathan, and for the first time, he realized Harrison was not wearing the symbol of the Special Forces anymore.  "I have been offered permanent command of the _Ranger_, and _Kearsarge_ and _Midway_ are being assigned to the battle group.  That leaves two options left for the Star Marshals."

            "I know, I got the orders sheet today.  One, the Sky Foxes will stay aboard and help train two new squadrons for the ship while the Jolly Rogers and Timber Wolves return to the _Enterprise_.   Two, we all stay aboard as a full and complete wing."

            "I here either way your keeping your captain's stripe, so it won't be too much of a loss for you."

            Jonathan nodded, "I already talked to the Wing, and we have decided.  If you want us Alex, we're staying, all of us.  The Star Marshals is the home for all the squadrons now."

            Harrison smiled broad and wide.  "I hoped you would say that Son," he said as he shook the younger man's hand and both men turned to where the ship's flag was pained over a corridor hatch where the final touches of making the ship complete was being painted on.  The Star Marshals' symbol was touched up and a list of the squadrons was being painted on next.  Jonathan smiled as he watched the crew apply the names of all three squadrons, and felt the pride Captain Lewis must have felt the first time he took over the Desperados.  This was his wing, his people, his family, and he would not give them up now.

End


End file.
